We Know
by Zute
Summary: "Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear." The words awoke the scarred flesh on Nessa's back, setting her feet on a path to collecting a blood debt from her childhood. (AU This is NOT canon Skyrim. M-rating for a reason.)
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Akatosh alone knew why this Dragonborn was chosen. There was little to suggest the shy girl had the soul of the dragon, or was suited to hunting them. Nothing suggested she could save the world from Alduin. Perhaps Akatosh made a mistake when he imbued Nessa Nyholm with a dragon soul, certainly Nessa herself thought it was a mistake.

Orphaned at age twelve, she was turned over to the Riften orphanage where she spent three terrible years. At fifteen she was _adopted_ to a large family that treated her as little more than a servant. Fleeing that, at age eighteen she stumbled into an Imperial ambush and was swept up along with a contingent of Stormcloaks including Ulfric Stormcloak himself. How she faced the headsman's axe and escaped that day is another tale, but she found herself in Whiterun with the name of Dragonborn and Thane and completely unprepared for the responsibilities. The call from High Hrothgar went ignored and she fled to Riften where our story begins with Nessa finally finding a family of sorts.

**We Know**

To see her again was to feel the lash biting into her flesh and the fearful solitude of being locked away in a dark closet, forgotten for hours. It brought to mind all the patches of newly turned earth and her missing friends. The shy girl everyone knew as Nessa was nowhere in sight when she stole out of the closet intent on the only act of vengeance she'd ever committed.

The narrow cord wrapped around Grelod's neck and Nessa pulled it taut before the old lady could even respond. Only her eyes rolled in Nessa's direction and a final hiss escaped her throat. Maybe she imagined it, but Grelod seemed to recognize her. The old woman's hatred was palpable. It was the same hatred she had shown the children under her charge. As her last act, she reached back with her withered claws and scratched Nessa's face, struggled feebly for a moment, and then slumped to the floor.

"For Aventus," Nessa whispered to the dead woman. "For Fat Freddie, Sticky Timmy, and little Carrie." She thought of friends who had disappeared at night, probably buried in the orphanages courtyard. "For me."

Quiet as she had been, someone was stirring in the orphanage. She needed to go. Out the window she had left open, quiet as a breeze she went. No one would know who had murdered the old lady, certainly there were many who had dreamed of such a thing, but only she had dared. She slipped down an alley, narrowly avoiding a guard, and found the secret entrance to the thieves' guild.

Rune was the first one she ran into.

"By the nine, Nessy, what happened to you?" He reached out and gently touched her face where a long scratch was bleeding slightly.

With the adrenaline pumping, she'd completely forgotten about the scratches. "Sabertooth cat."

Rune pulled back and turned her face into the light from a torch ensconced. "Saber cat? Looks more like fingernails."

Nessa pulled her face away and smiled. "It was a young one. Just a baby, really."

Smiling, Rune let go of her face. "Ah, a Sabertooth kitten. They're ferocious, truly. Are they stalking the alleys of Riften now?" His mouth ticked up at one side.

"Very funny, Rune," she retorted. "I was outside the city."

"When it ambushed you?" Niruin edged into the conversation. "Kittens are getting aggressive nowadays."

Cynric saw his brothers clustering around the new girl and he joined them. "Ay, Nessa, what happened to your face?"

"Let me see," Vipir joined the crowd. He scowled at his brother thieves. "None of you thought to help her clean up those scratches?" He put an arm around the girl and pulled her away from the others. "Let me clean those for you. Wouldn't want to have them get infected and mar that lovely face of yours."

"Don't let Vipir clean 'em," Cynric warned her. "He'll find some way of convincing you that those scratches reach all the way to your backside and he'll have you out of your leathers."

Nessa laughed. "Don't worry, I know where the scratches start and end."

That started a round of laughter and suggestive comments. Niruin extolled the virtues of wood elves, while Cynric suggested that none of his brothers could rival his touch, expert lock-breaker that he was. Rune suggested that they were all full of hot air. Of them all, he was rather protective of the new girl; they'd hit it off when she had sat down with him beside the cistern and they'd exchanged life stories.

Vipir guided her into the sleeping area of the thieves' guild and sat her down on his bed. "Now stay here, Nessa. I'm going to wash these out with something, then a little salve. They'll heal in no time." He opened a chest at the end of his bed and rummaged around in it.

To him, Nessa was a kitten. Young, yes, but soon a hardened shell would form around her. In a few years she'd be like Vex, or Sapphire, but for now there was sweetness. He was drawn to her, like one is drawn to a flower. He'd never thought of himself as a philosopher but he struggled with the thought that to pluck the flower would also destroy it. What he knew was that he was a thief of not just items, but hearts as well. He was not a good man for a girl like her. He should leave this flower on the stalk. Internally he laughed at himself and went back to rummaging through his chest.

Nessa laughed. "You don't lock your chest. Do you trust all these thieves?"

Vipir looked up at her with a smile on his face. "Why bother? Most of these boys can jimmy open a lock faster than I can lock it." He picked up a squat jar and another filled with a liquid and a roll of cloth bandages. "Besides, we do all trust one another. If they need something from me, they only have to ask."

_Just like a family, _Nessa thought. She'd had one once, but their memories had faded. The only thing she could remember clearly now from that time was the fire sweeping through her house and killing everyone but her. After that, she'd been shipped to Riften with the other orphans from that town. She was _adopted_ at fifteen, but truthfully she was little more than an unpaid servant to a woman with a big family. Just this year, three years after being adopted, she left that family. She just packed up what little she owned and walked out the door. They tried to stop her, but she walked away, heading Talos knows where. It was near the border, as she knew now, that she was caught up in the ambush of Stormcloak soldiers and nearly executed along with them.

_Until the dragon came..._ Since then, nothing was the same. She'd learned to fight and discovered natural aptitudes she knew nothing about. Then a long smoldering bitterness had exploded when she had run into the orphan Aventus. And now… now, she was a murderer of old women.

The cloth touched her scratch and she jumped, jarred out of her thoughts by pain.

"Sorry, I know this stuff stings, but it will keep the infection away."

Nessa smiled at him as he cleaned up the scratches.

"Nails are filthy things," Vipir said. "They can cause the worst festering wounds, almost as bad as bites."

"You mean claws," Nessa reminded him.

"Do I?" he asked, a sly smile on his face. He opened the squat jar and applied a soothing ointment on the wounds. "Well, it is not my business. I'm sure that the kitten got far worse than you did." He finished up tending to her wounded face and sat next to her on the bed. "Better?"

She nodded, smiling at him. "Much. I owe you one, my brother."

"It was pure selfishness. I like your pretty face. I want to keep it that way." He leaned closer to her, "I'll collect my favor now, then."

She considered a moment then met his lips with her own. He didn't try anything beyond a kiss that was very nearly chaste. Like a brother might give his sister, but perhaps a little too soft and lingering a little too long. It surprised her how this simple kiss made her knees feel weak… Weakness she couldn't afford. She pulled away, regretfully, and cleared her throat nervously.

Vipir's eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. "That was nice. I'll clean your kitten scratches any time, my friend."

~o~o~o~

It wasn't the first time a courier had sought her out, but this one seemed to pop up behind her. His voice severed her thoughts as she walked through Whiterun, thinking herself unnoticed, startling her into drawing her sword.

"Whoa, Miss, take it easy. I have a message for you. Let me find it here." The young man dug through his satchel, casting nervous glances at her sword.

Sheathing her sword, she waited as he looked for her message. She took it from him and opened it. An ominous black handprint in the middle of the page with only two words: "We Know". She glanced up sharply at the messager, her face going pale. "Who is this from?"

He shrugged. "Some rather creepy looking guy in a black robe. He paid lots of money, so I wasn't about to ask any questions." Looping his satchel over his shoulder he smiled at the pretty Nord. A shame the message was bad news, he didn't ordinarily like girls as large as the Nords were, but this one, while tall, was slender as a reed. Ah, but she looked far too distracted to be interested in a quick tumble, and he had a lot of messages still to deliver.

"Good day to you, Miss." He winked at her and set off down the road at a good clip.

She never looked up from the message. _We Know. What?_ _About Grelod? How could they know? I was quiet and old Grelod barely made a noise. No one saw me. Unless… was there someone already there I didn't see? Perhaps someone hidden inside her room? And who is "we"? Does someone know about the jobs I've been doing for the thieves' guild? Perhaps they're going to blackmail me._

Nessa's thoughts chased themselves around in her mind as she folded the note up and stuck it into a pocket, vowing to ask around at the guild. Maybe someone would know the significance of the handprint. Delvin surely might, or even better, Brynjolf. If it were a blackmailer, they would certainly help her deal with it.

Maybe it had something to do with the dragons. _We Know._ She laughed at herself for jumping to conclusions. They could know about the rumors that she was the Dragonborn. Perhaps it was a message from the Greybeards. The Jarl of Whiterun seemed to think they had summoned her. Perhaps they were simply trying to scare her into coming to see them.

Although the note was tucked away in her pocket, it still bothered her all that day.

_~o~o~o~_

It was nearly two in the morning when she finally returned to the Ragged Flagon finished with the tasks Delvin and Vex had sent her on. Vekel and Brynjolf were the only two still up. Vekel was sweeping, as usual. The man was fanatical about keeping his bar clean. Even though there was slime and mold everywhere else in the Ratway, his little bar was immaculate. Nessa thought it bordered on an obsession.

"Ah good, you're back, lass. I was a bit worried about you." Brynjolf's voice and friendly demeanor always warmed Nessa, she could listen to him talk for hours. And the way he said "lass" made her feel special, made her feel like she belonged to him. She was his protégé. He had seen something in her and taken her under his wing. As a result, she never wanted to disappoint him. His praise was more precious to her than gold and his disapproval stung more than Grelod's horsewhip.

She smiled wearily and dropped into a seat at the table. "Hullo, Brynjolf," she said shyly. Something about him always made her stumble looking for words. He was just so… smooth! He always knew what to say and how to say it. "It took me a little longer than usual. I was set to clean out the target's house after they went to bed, but they stayed up quite late. Then the trip home was long." She pulled her pack off her shoulder and dumped the contents out on the table. "Look at this!" She mustered up some excitement over her haul, even despite her weariness.

Brynjolf's eyebrows rose and he whistled as he took in her evening's take. "There's some valuable stuff there, lass. You have a good eye." He sorted through the items and pulled out a carved wooden soldier. "Maybe not this one though."

Reaching out, Nessa pulled the toy closer to her. "I actually bought that one. It's for a boy. He… he's an orphan, actually. I thought he might like it."

Byrnjolf's expression softened. This was what made her so appealing, of the things that set her apart. One moment she was all business, the next he might find she had a tender spot for an orphan. His brows rose as he remembered something. "Ah, that reminds me. We've had a little news close to home. The old biddy who ran the orphanage is dead. Murdered in her own bed. She had it coming, if you ask me. That nasty old bird had been terrorizing kids for decades. Probably one of them came back to repay her for her kindness."

Nessa affected indifference and fingered the toy soldier. "Imagine that," she said blandly.

Something in her nonchalance and indifference alerted Byrnjolf. He was a master at reading people. He never would have been such a adept hustler if he couldn't size up a mark properly. Nessa's response was strange. Now she was fidgeting with the soldier. _This lass needs some lessons in hiding tells. Biting the inside of her cheek - she's trying not to tell me something. She has her eyes glued to the toy. Just a little nudge…_

"Is something troubling you, lass?" Brynjolf asked, knowing the answer but not the reason.

Nessa finally put down the toy and looked into his eyes. "I got a message today from a courier. It has been on my mind a little."

Brynjolf's eyebrow cocked. Couriers were expensive, usually only used by the wealthy and powerful. _Who would be sending this girl a message like that?_ "Would you like me to look at it?"

She considered a moment and then nodded. Standing, she wiggled a hand into a pocket and withdrew the parchment. She unfolded it, glanced at it one more time, and handed it over to him.

His intake of air was involuntary. He needed to work on his own tells. If this had been a card game, he would have given it all away.

"What is it?" she asked, looking frightened by his reaction.

Brynjolf folded the paper and slid it back to her. _Well, this is a fine pickle. Who is this girl?_

"Lass, what have you done to draw the attention of the Dark Brotherhood?"

~o~o~o~

**Notes: **I love to get reviews. They are what keep me writing! If there seems to be interest in the story, I'll continue. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

_For those of you who aren't familiar with the Skyrim game but come from the Dragon Age Universe, the Dark Brotherhood is the assassin's guild. The Thieves Guild has no fancy name, but they're under the city of Riften. I think the high fantasy characterizations are pretty typical. There are werewolves and vampires and they can, for the most part, pass for ordinary people._

_In the course of the game the PC can chose to murder the nasty old lady that runs the orphanage in Riften. There's a boy in another town who is desperate to get rid of the Grelod because he's making his life a misery, and that of the other orphans. So I figured Nessa would leap at the opportunity, having been an orphan herself. The Dark Brotherhood used to have a spiritual connection to a god-like creature and she would tell them when someone had performed the "Dark Ritual". They would contact that person and then, if the contract were accepted, go kill someone. Unfortunately that spiritual connection doesn't exist any longer. Nessa took it on herself to answer the boy's dark ritual herself, thus landing her in hot water when the assassins find out what she's done._

_~o~o~o~_

Delvin looked up when Brynjolf took him aside in an empty corner of the Flagon. "We've got a bit of a problem, old friend."

The older man looked up and cocked his head. "Oh? Something more than usual, eh? What's Vipir done now? I'll get the boys and we can spring him. Which jail is he in?" He scratched the back of his neck with a peeved expression. "I dunno though, maybe we should leave him set there a few days to teach him a lesson."

Brynjolf chuckled. "Not Vipir, Del, it's the new girl."

"Oy, she's not giving you trouble already is she? Mercer will have her hide if she brings us problems and yours too for bringing her here."

Brynjolf frowned. "Yeah, I'm well aware of that. I don't think we need to bring the old man in on this yet. Maybe it'll resolve itself."

Brynjolf was good at guarding his face, but Delvin had known him a long, long time. Taught him everything he knows. He couldn't hide the concern he had for the girl. "Well, better out than in. What'd the lass do?"

"She's in trouble with the Dark Brotherhood." Brynjolf had convinced her to let him keep the message. He'd told her he might be able to do something about it, but he was pretty sure that had been a lie. What he really wanted to know was how much trouble was headed to the guild.

"Nine Divines," Delvin swore quietly. He clamped a hand on his friend's shoulder in a kindly manner. "If you were intent on bedding her, best get to it. I doubt you'll have much more opportunity. The question is how does she even know? Most poor sods only know they've got trouble with the Brotherhood when an assassin is standing over them fixin' to plunge somethin' pointy into their vitals."

Brynjolf handed Delvin the note and watched his expression as he read it. The old pickpocket whistled in disbelief. "Well don't this beat all? The Dark Brotherhood don't announce themselves like this to their victims." He folded the note up and handed it back. "I don't know what they want, lad, but I figure they'll be telling her soon enough."

Pacing the floor, Brynjolf rubbed at his chin. The guild certainly didn't need any friction with the Dark Brotherhood. Sometimes they worked together on some very lucrative contracts, but if anyone knew the Dark Brotherhood, it was Delvin. He'd worked with them frequently over the years; in fact, long ago Delvin had been as assassin. It was something he rarely spoke about. "What's our exposure, Del?"

Delvin shrugged. "None that I can see, long as we don't interfere. Maybe they're just trying to scare the girl. Or…" He stopped talking abruptly and frowned.

"Or what, Del?"

"Naw, it's nothing. For a minute I was going to say they might want to recruit her. She's a good thief, I'll give you that, but I can't see them taking on a girl that green. That lot is right blood thirsty and Nessa… well, other than her partiality for lifting valuables, she's a good girl. I doubt she's ever even bloodied her dagger."

Brynjolf barked out a laugh. "Sweet Nessa, an assassin? Well, sleep on it. If anything else comes to mind. Let me know. I'll tell her she might want to stick close to the cistern awhile. We can keep an eye on her."

"No, lad, don't say anything. We don't want to be in the middle of this… whatever it is," Delvin warned.

Brynjolf frowned with that warning but nodded his assent. He walked back to the cistern thinking about Delvin's warning and considering whether he should listen to him or not. He at least wanted to say a few reassuring words to the girl, tell her it was probably nothing too serious, so she wouldn't lie awake all night worrying about it. She was staying in the cistern now, at least most nights, so he headed to the curtained cubby hole they'd set aside for her privacy.

"Lass," he said quietly, "can I disturb you for a moment?" He waited outside the curtain for a reply but all he heard was silence. Not even the deep breath of a sleeper. _By the Nine have they killed her here in the cistern?_ He pulled aside the curtain and found she was gone. Relief flooded him. He would have felt horribly guilty if she'd been killed here, amidst all her brothers, where she should be safe.

_But where did she go? _He pulled aside the curtain to let in more light and then he saw the parchment lying on her bed, nearly a twin of the one she'd given to him. It had that same black handprint, but this time there was no text. The message was clear. The Dark Brotherhood had taken her right out of the cistern. The Nine only knew why. His heart felt unaccountably heavy when he considered the empty bed.

_It's probably best, _he told himself, _we can't have that sort of trouble here. _That thought didn't make him feel much better for the girl but at least he'd stay out of trouble with Mercer. He could always say she'd had a change of heart about thieving. He knew Delvin wouldn't tell the ornery old guild master what he knew.

He picked up the piece of parchment and folded it, sticking it into a pocket. Then he found a ribbon she used to tie her hair up in braids. It was blue, almost the same color as her eyes. He didn't know why but he picked that up and put it into his pocket as well.

_~o~o~o~_

There wasn't much to it, really. Babette was virtually invisible in the dark of the night. Slipping a little something into the thieves' mead to ensure they all slept well was… child's play. Never mind that the child was a three century old vampire in a ten-year-old girl's body. The little vampire silently directed Nazir through the cistern to the girl she'd seen that night in Grelod's room.

Nazir chuckled to himself. The Nord girl had stolen a kill from Babette; she was quite put out about the entire matter. _Oh well, Astrid will sort her out. _He bent over her bed, plunging a doctored needle into her arm, ensuring she wouldn't wake and cause a fuss. His hand covered her mouth in case she woke and struggled, but it was an unnecessary precaution. She must have had a lot of the treated mead before she went to bed.

He bent over her bed and folded a blanket around her unconscious body, covering her head and body. It was easy to pick her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She was a tall girl, like most of these Nords, but on the thin side. He felt strong muscles under her nightgown.

Babette left a piece of parchment on the girl's bed and collected her gear. Assuming that Astrid didn't kill her she'd probably need her armor and weapons.

Nazir looked over at Babette and she nodded. He couldn't see much in the gloom, but he saw Babette's white teeth. She looked highly amused and he wondered about that. The pair stole out of the cistern as noiselessly as they'd come in with the girl who had pretended to be one of them.

Arnbjorn waited not far from the stables with a horse and cart ready to transport the interloper to the shack where they held and questioned prisoners sometimes. Why Astrid had ordered her taken and not just killed, he couldn't imagine. He'd even questioned her about in private.

"_Just get rid of her, love. I don't want to have to cart her across Skyrim. We don't need a problem with the thieves." His hand traveled up her side and rested on her bare belly. _

"_Hmmmm?" she said dreamily, trapping his hand under her own. "Babette did a little investigation into this imposter's background and she seems to think that I should meet her." She moved Arnbjorn's hand lower down her belly and guided it between her legs. Her fingers interlocked with his and they both rubbed languorously over that slick spot that made her moan. "I've learned not to question Babette's judgment."_

They'd not discussed it after that. Truthfully he'd forgotten about his concerns shortly thereafter. Astrid might not have been as old as Babette but, over the course of her unnaturally long lifetime, she'd picked up a lot of ways of make a man forget himself. In the end, he did as she wanted; he always did.

Still, he didn't have to like it. They set out for the shack well before daybreak. Babette didn't like being out during the day. They had Babette's _bed_ – really, it was a nicely padded and lined coffin – in the wagon with the Nord girl. When the sun came up, she sought shelter inside it. At noon they stopped and checked on the girl. Arnbjorn peeled back the blanket covering her face.

"Talos!" he swore. "Take a look at her, Nazir."

The Alik'r assassin stood up and joined his brother to peer down at the unconscious girl. He hadn't really gotten a good look at her the night before. "She seems far too young to be a murderer. Do you think Babette made a mistake?"

Arnbjorn looked closer at the girl. _The color of her hair, her white skin and pink cheeks, those cheekbones... _He peeled open one of her eyes and saw a blue iris. "Take a closer look, Nazir. Doesn't she remind you of someone?"

Nazir looked at her more closely. "A very young Astrid, I suppose." He remembered Babette's smug smile the night before. Babette had perfect vision in the dark; she knew exactly what the girl looked like. It wasn't an accident they were taking her to Astrid.

Arnbjorn nodded. "A hundred years ago, this might have been Astrid. What is Babette playing at?" He knew the answer even as he asked the question. Vampires get bored, maybe Babette had seen the signs of restlessness in Astrid, certainly he had. This girl… Was he bringing his wife a toy? Something to play with?

He fought the urge to transform into a werewolf and rip the girl's throat out.

_Is Astrid bored with me?_

_~o~o~o~_

**Notes: **_Thanks for the reviews! I've been feeling a little bummed at how few people are reviewing lately and I wonder if my stories are bad or what. I need your reviews to keep my interest going in these projects. Truly, I feed off your feedback. It stokes the creative fires and I love to hear your ideas as well! It's a bit embarrassing to admit to it, but I need some validation that I'm not just wasting time._

_Now, I realize there's no reason to believe that Astrid is a vampire. However there's something so darkly seductive about her I truly did wonder if she were a vampire. I'm not normally attracted to women, but she got to me. I see her almost like a Vampire Lestat._


	3. Chapter 3

"What have you brought me?" Astrid asked, her voice a velvety purr. Oh, she knew the answer already, or part of it. She watched Arnbjorn pick up the blanket wrapped body and carelessly sling it over his shoulder.

"Be careful!" Babette snapped at him. "There's no need to hurt her. She's going to be feeling pretty poorly when she wakes up anyway."

Arnbjorn growled and snapped his teeth at Babette. They'd been at each other's throats ever since he'd taken a look at the girl. It wouldn't ever come to blows, of course. The Nord werewolf wasn't sure he could best the little vampire girl.

Astrid's eyebrow rose and she looked at Babette with a faint amused smile painting her perfect features. "What have you done to so upset my husband?" Her curiosity was nearly boiling over. Babette was definitely up to something. The little vampire liked to stir things up on occasion. She seemed to draw as much nourishment from tension and drama as she did from drinking blood.

Babette's youthful face showed nothing. "What? She's an imposter, she should be dealt with. I don't know why your husband is making such a fuss over this."

Astrid snorted with amusement. "Well, bring her in. Let's see what we're dealing with here." She moved aside as her husband brought the girl into the shack and unceremoniously dumped her on the bed. "Arn… careful, if anyone is going to punish this one it'll be me." She stepped over to the bed. "Now, let's see what we have…"

She pulled aside the blanket obscuring the unconscious girl's face and her smile started at her eyes then worked its way down to her lips. "She's lovely. She doesn't look like much of a murderer, does she?" She hummed to herself thinking of the possibilities. "But that's the best sort, isn't it?" She exchanged a look with Babette.

"Doesn't she remind you of anyone, Astrid?" Babette asked.

Astrid pondered the young woman's face. "She does look familiar. Maybe with her eyes open, I'd remember."

Babette laughed. "Oh, my darling girl, think back to when you were much younger." She walked over to Nessa and ran her little hand along the Nord girl's cheekbones.

Astrid mused over the puzzle for a moment then burst out laughing. "You think she looks like me? Like I did when I was that young?" She pulled back an eyelid and looked at her iris. "Were my eyes ever that blue?"

Babette grinned, her sharp incisors showing. "Yes, before you were turned. I always did love your eyes back then. I almost regret infecting you with the sanguinare because it changed your lovely eyes." She sighed. "But if I hadn't, you'd be dead by now, so it all worked out just fine." She bounced on her toes and turned, sticking out her tongue at Arnbjorn. "You should thank me for your beautiful wife, you ungrateful beast."

Arnbjorn narrowed his eyes and growled at Babette but said nothing. He gave his wife one last expressive look and strode out of the shack, letting the door slam behind him. Nazir, feeling uncomfortably out of place with the two vampires gushing over the girl, decided to join him. "I'll be waiting outside."

The two vampires hovered over the girl. "What should I do with her?" Astrid asked.

Babette shrugged. "Whatever you please. Feed on her if you like. Infect her then watch her change. Or not. You could… well, she is beautiful isn't she? And so very innocent."

The look on the Babette's face was unmistakable. Poor Babette would never know a woman's passion so she lived vicariously through Astrid. Her progenitor liked to hear Astrid's tales of seduction and there hadn't been any since she'd married Arnbjorn. Apparently the little vampire was getting bored with the status quo. Truthfully, so was Astrid.

"Our marriage could use a little excitement," she admitted. "Well, you're very thoughtful, my friend. Such a lovely gift!"

As she stared down at the much younger copy of herself, Nessa stirred.

"Ah, it looks like our sleeping beauty if going to awaken soon. I will leave you to… whatever it is you intend to do. Just be sure to tell me all about it!" Babette giggled girlishly and skipped outside.

Astrid barely heard the grinding of the cart wheels and the clopping of hooves, as the others headed back to Sanctuary. She sat beside the girl and thought about what she would do next. The moment was utterly fraught with possibilities. A tremor went through her as she considered the possibilities. _This is going to change everything, _she thought.

She didn't know until much later how prophetic that thought turned out to be.

~o~o~o~

Every muscle seemed to complain at once as she emerged from a very deep sleep. Her mouth tasted like she'd been chewing on rocks; it was hot, dry and dusty. She tried to wet her lips with her tongue but there really wasn't enough moisture in her mouth.

_Talos! How much did I drink last night?_ She stretched and slowly opened her eyes. _What? _Confused and disoriented she sat up slowly, feeling her head swim.

"There's water next to the bed."

A voice of velvet and butter drifted from a corner of the… shack. _Shack? How did I get here?_ But water, she desperately needed water. She found the water and drank from it greedily.

That buttery voice chuckled and she turned finally, looking for what sort of creature could speak so sonorously. A woman, wearing some sort of leather armor and a face mask, sat on a bookshelf in the corner of the shack, one leg pulled into her chest, the other dangled indolently.

Nessa couldn't help but stare. What little she could see of the woman… she was stunning. Her eyes twinkled like silver above the face mask. Those arched brows seemed to express interest and amusement. But her beauty seemed deadly somehow, like the bloom of a datura is beautiful, yet lethal. Nessa sat up, holding her head that seemed to pound with any little movement.

"How did I get here?" the Nord girl muttered. "Who are you?" Nessa could see the questions sparked amusement in the woman. Her eyes crinkled slightly and she chuckled.

"Does it matter?" she replied. "You're warm, dry… and still very much alive, which is more than I can say for old Grelod. Hmmm?"

Nessa swallowed hard. _How can she know? _"You know about… that?"

The woman laughed and Nessa felt conflicting emotions. She was frightened, yes, but… she wanted… that woman's voice was so compelling and her eyes were so beautiful… Her head swam for a moment and she felt like she would do anything for her, but she came back to herself. _No! This is crazy. Who is she?_

"Of course I know about it. But don't misunderstand, I'm not criticizing. It was a good kill. The old crone had it coming, and you saved a bunch of urchins, to boot. But there is a slight… hmmmm, problem, you see?"

Nessa swallowed again and fought against the pull this woman had. "I'm not sure I like where this is going."

"You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood, for me and my associates."

_She's with the Dark Brotherhood? Oh gods, I am in it now, _Nessa thought.

"Grelod, the kind, was by all rights a Dark Brotherhood contract… a kill that _you _stole. A kill you must repay."

"Repay?" Her hope kindled. "I will happily give you what the boy paid me with. It might even be in my stuff…" Nessa looked around the room for her backpack and didn't see it. "Oh, it's back in Riften, I think."

"Ha ha! Oh my dear, you are precious. No, you owe us a death. If you turn around you'll notice my guests. I've collected them from… well, that's not really important. The here and now, _that _iswhat matters. You see, there's a contract out on one of them and that person can't leave this room alive. But… oh, which one?" The humor was evident in the mysterious woman's voice. "Go on, see if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe and admire."

Nessa turned around and saw three forms kneeling on the opposite side of the room. All of them had sacks over their heads. How could she possible know which one to kill? She doubted anyone would come out and admit it they were the one with a contract on them… what if they didn't even know? _Oh gods, one is even a woman!_

"I'll have no part of this insanity!" That she had already killed the old woman weighed heavily enough on her conscience, even though the old hag deserved it, but to possibly kill an innocent... in cold blood? That was asking too much.

The beautiful assassin's voice hardened; butter and velvet became steel. "Now _that _is a shame. What you fail to realize is that you involved yourself in this _insanity _when you took Grelod's life. You made your choice, now it's time to face the consequences of your actions. You don't leave this shack until someone dies."

Astrid watched the girl closely, hoping she would do what was required. It would be a terrible shame to have to kill this lovely reproduction of herself. Ah, but feasting on this one would be bitter-sweet. Even across the room she could sense the sweet blood of an innocent coursing through her arteries. But how innocent was she really? She'd already killed in cold blood. It was an intriguing question, the sort she and her associates often debated. If innocence were defined by youth and inexperience, then certainly this girl met that measure.

Nessa considered her options carefully. She was good with her blades, true, but she doubted she could best a trained assassin. But there was more than just self-preservation staying her hand. She swallowed nervously realizing that this woman had a pull she found almost irresistible. Maybe it was the drugs but whenever she looked at the woman she felt dizzy and warm. Daring to test it again, she looked at the woman and saw her gazing intently back at her. She wondered what the rest of her face looked like under the mask that covered her nose and mouth. Was her mouth as perfectly formed as her eyes? What would it be like to press her own lips against…

Shuddering at the thought, Nessa pulled her eyes away again. _What makes me want to kiss a woman as if she were my lover?_ Never had she heard of such a thing. Unconsciously she wiped away the perspiration forming on her brow. She approached the three captives and questioned them. One was clearly a thug. He proudly admitted to having lots of people wish him dead and he threatened her with violence to boot! The woman was disagreeable and shrewish, demanding to be let go. Nessa didn't like her but she couldn't imagine mere unpleasantness would merit a Dark Brotherhood contract. The final captive was a soldier. He claimed to only be guilty of following orders. Nessa knew such excuses were used to cover a wide array of crimes; however, the man seemed truly remorseful.

It seemed obvious, but perhaps it was meant to trip her up. Maybe it was the least obvious of the three – the woman. Nessa's head spun with the weight of the decision. She stood before the Khajiit and turned to look at the assassin, looking for some sign she'd picked correctly or perhaps the woman had had a change of heart.

Astrid chuckled at her reluctance but only shrugged for a response. "Come now, my dear, make your kill. I'm not getting any younger." _I'm also not getting any older, _she thought.

One last consideration… her eyes swept over the three captives once more. Moving quickly, so the Khajiit wouldn't hear his death approaching, she sliced across the arteries in his neck and barely managed to twist out of the way of the fountain of blood.

Slow, applause came from the corner where the assassin watched. She jumped down from the bookshelf and approached Nessa. "Nicely done, although next time if you stand behind the victim you won't risk getting blood all over yourself. Just a small tip." Astrid could see the effect she was having on Nessa. She could easily make the girl a thrall, enslave her, drink from her when she must feed, but there was little challenge in that. No, this one must come freely, of her own will. That would be much more sporting.

"I sense something special about you, Nessa," she said, sensing the effect her voice had on the girl. "You look so sweet and innocent, but there's a darkness to you too, isn't there?"

Nessa said nothing but followed the assassin with her eyes as she slowly came toward her.

"It was what let you kill Grelod for that boy and… I'm guessing… for yourself too. No?" She stopped well within Nessa's personal space.

Nessa inhaled sharply but refused to take a step backward. She wouldn't show fear in front of this woman.

Astrid chuckled, her voice low and soft. "You're curious, aren't you?" She raised her hand and reached out to softly touch Nessa's face. "About… hmmm… many things, I think." She circled around the girl, letting her hand glide gently across her shoulder and then across the back of her neck. "I have answers to those questions you ponder at night when the thieves are sleeping. I think you'd find yourself quite at home within our little family." She completed her circle and let her hand fall to her side. "I think you should become a part of our family, Nessa."

"An assassin?" Nessa said quietly. "To kill people for…"

Another rich laugh bubbled from Astrid's throat. "For money, excitement, power… yes. An assassin. You."

"I don't…" Nessa shook her head, as if to dislodge the notion from her head. She had felt so alive as she killed Grelod. Darkness, the assassin said, yes, she had that. She sought out danger. With the thieves, it was the danger of being caught. That was exhilarating, but this… this was so much more. She stole a glance at the dead Khajiit. There was no remorse, no guilt, no shame. Perhaps the woman was right about her. "I don't know."

Astrid stood in front of her and pulled off her hood and mask, letting the girl see her face for the first time. "Think about it, Nessa. We assassins take care of one another. In me, you'd have a sister." She came closer to the girl and using her fingers tipped her face to the side and placed a lingering kiss on her cheek. "A very loving sister."

The girl stood still looking ever so conflicted and it was utterly becoming, Astrid thought. "My name is Astrid, Nessa. I will leave you a map to our sanctuary and the passphrase. If you decide to join us, ask for me. I am the guild leader." She turned and walked to the corner, picking up her knapsack and rummaging through it. She pulled out a map and left it on the bed for the girl who now watched her every move.

Unlocking the door to the shack, she turned to smile once more at the speechless Nord girl. "Farewell for now, Nessa. I do hope to see you again soon." She left without knowing whether or not she would ever see the girl again and that made her feel distinctly unsettled. Astrid was used to being in charge and knowing precisely what everyone was doing. This time she was leaving it all up to chance and to the sweet girl who could have been her twin, if a century hadn't separated them.

Nessa picked up the map and sat back down on the bed. "Gods…" she swore, "what do I do now?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Riften**

Three days now she'd been gone, her belongings left behind exactly where she had put them down the night she disappeared. Brynjolf fingered the wooden soldier that she'd bought for the orphan boy. _Orphans. Common enough in a place like the Rift where it seemed like someone was always at war with someone else._ _Bandits, the Forsworn, necromancers and now the Imperium and Stormcloaks. Plenty of people going around making orphans these days. Not to mention cave bears and saber-toothed… kittens. _He chuckled quietly thinking of the tale she'd told about the marks on her face. The toy fell from his hand as pieces of information collided and clicked into place in his mind. _Nessa was an orphan, an orphan boy, the toy, scratches on her face… Grelod murdered. _He swore quietly. _Did Nessa murder Grelod?_

He kept the toy soldier and decided to ask around at the orphanage. Maybe someone there would know something. He turned, and pulled aside the curtain that had given her some privacy and nearly ran into Delvin.

"Don't tell me you're still thinking about that girl, lad. I don't reckon you'll be seeing her again." Delvin clapped him on the shoulder and shook his head.

Brynjolf laughed, trying to make light of his snooping. "No, no. Nothing like that, Del. I'm just curious why the Dark Brotherhood would be after her."

"Well, come on. I'll wager there's bottle of mead with your name on it at the Flagon. I've been working on a new shell game… I need to try it out on you." They walked out of the cistern together laughing and joking as they always did.

~o~o~o~

"I don't know, mister," the little girl said shyly.

"It's all right, lassie," Brynjolf said, his voice calm and reassuring. The voice worked on marks, and it worked on children just as well. _I like you. Trust me. _His warm, friendly words seemed to weave a spell over listeners. "Do you know if there might be any boys that would know a lady like this? She was going to bring one of them a toy and she had to leave suddenly. I'd like to find out who it is supposed to go to."

The little girl shrugged then scratched her nose. "Maybe the new boy, Aventus?" She giggled. "We call him booger-face. He's a stinking, slime-bag Imperial!"

Brynjolf chuckled. "My goodness, lassie, where'd you learn to talk like that?" He was astonished how quickly the child had picked up such prejudices.

She looked at him pleadingly. "Don't tell on me! I heard a guard saying Imperials stink of garlic and sour milk. Besides, Aventus says he is friends with the Dark Brotherhood." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "He says he did the Dark Ritual and hired a…ah… ah…nassin to kill nasty old Grelod!"

Things began to fall into place with that whispered confession. "I promise I will never tell on you, young missy. Your secret is safe with me!" He yanked gently on one of her braids and kissed her on the cheek. "I think I might have something for you." He searched through his pockets and then frowned when he couldn't find what he was looking for. "Well, now, I must have misplaced it." Then his face broke into a winsome smile. "Ah! Yes, I forgot I had put it there." He reached out for her ear and produced a piece of peppermint candy in his palm. "Well look at that!" He tsked. "You need to clean your ears better." He reached for her other ear and produced a very shiny coin. "And look what is in the other ear!" The high-pitched squeal of delight that came from the girl brought more children running and he was pulling candy and coins out of ears until the last of them had something.

There was only one child who stayed apart from the rest, an older boy, perhaps thirteen. He ventured a guess this might be the boy the little girl was talking about. He joined the boy and sat down beside him, but maintained a little distance. He knew this boy didn't feel like he belonged here. There was a lot he could tell from the sullen expression on the boy's face.

"I think we might have a mutual friend, Aventus," Brynjolf said, gambling on instinct.

He responded with a shrug. "I don't really know anyone in Riften. I'm from Windhelm."

_So he is Aventus. He didn't dispute the name._ "I know a very, pretty lass with fair hair and blue eyes. She always wove her hair in lots of braids and sometimes she tied them with a blue ribbon. She had to leave town rather suddenly… quite recently, in fact."

The boy looked up at Brynjolf, his face suddenly avid. "You know _her_?" he whispered. "Are you one of them, too?"

Brynjolf smiled. "No, lad, I'm not, but the lady in question had something I know she wanted you to have before she had to leave." He pulled the toy soldier out of his leather jacket where it had been poking him in the ribs all morning.

"Wow!" the boy exclaimed in a whisper. "I got a gift from a Dark Brotherhood assassin! Do you suppose this means they want to recruit me? I told her I wanted to be an assassin too and help little children, just like she did."

Brynjolf shook his head. "No, lad. It's just a gift from that lady. She wanted me to tell you not to get mixed up with that lot. They're a dangerous bunch, you know."

The little boy shook his head. "So it's from her then?" He stared at the toy and rubbed it with his thumb. "She didn't seem like an assassin, really, but I guess they take all sorts of people." He smiled up at Brynjolf. "When she comes back would you tell her to come visit me?"

He smiled sadly and nodded. "I don't know when she will be back, lad, but I will tell her."

"She didn't have to leave because she… well, you know. She's not in trouble is she?" Aventus asked.

Brynjolf thought for a moment about how best to answer the question. The boy was too interested in the doings of the Brotherhood, it might be in the lad's best interests to be a little truthful. "Well… yes, she's in a bit of trouble. That's why she wanted me to find you and warn you, all right? You stay away from assassins and rituals in the future, young man. You hear?"

Aventus was disturbed at the news that his heroine was in trouble. He looked down at his shoes and nodded. "All right. Tell her when you see her… tell her I won't do it again, but she should still come to see me."

Brynjolf nodded at the boy and clapped him warmly on the back. "I will, lad. I promise." He left the orphanage feeling gratified that he'd brought some happiness to the children's lives, but there was an aching heaviness in his heart for Nessa. At least he knew now that Nessa was dead. The Brotherhood would never stand for someone meddling in their business, of this he was certain.

He walked back to the Flagon and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to crawl into a bottle of mead.

**The Abandoned Shack**

Nessa cut the bonds of the remaining two prisoners and let them go free. They both swore to protect her identity but she doubted the woman. She'd probably accuse her in public if given half an opportunity. The soldier swore on all the gods her identity was safe with him.

"I was just following orders," Nessa said grimly and watched him grimace. _See how that excuse sounds to your ears now._

"Aye, that you were." He trudged away from the abandoned shack where they had been held prisoner without ever looking back.

Nessa watched the pair until they were out of sight then returned to the shack and sat down on the bed. _Now what?_ She asked herself for the hundredth time. She could return to Riften and try to explain why she had suddenly disappeared.

_What did you do, lass? _She heard Brynjolf's voice in her head, his voice ringing with disappointment. He had always sounded so proud of her when she did something clever, like handling that Golden Glow estate job. Even Mercer, the cantankerous guild master, had been even a little – truthfully, very little – complimentary. They might even kick her out for getting messed up in Dark Brotherhood business. They'd been very clear there was to be no violence, no killing, and she'd gone and broken that rule. No, she couldn't go back to Riften and face him.

Maybe her place was with murderers, after all. She shivered even though the shack was quite warm. That dark place within her longed to see Astrid again. _A family. A sister! _Even coming from a place of such darkness within her, such words resonated. She'd never really belonged to anything, until recently. The thieves' guild had been sort of a family, but that was over. She couldn't go back after breaking their rules.

She had nothing with her but her dagger and sword and the map Astrid had left her. She picked up the map, glanced at it briefly and left the shack to find the nearest road that would take her to Falkreath.

_~o~o~o~_

"Silence, my brother," she said to the door. She looked around wondering if anyone would see her talking to a door, but the entrance to the assassin's sanctuary was cleverly hidden from the road. There was a click and she reached out to see if she could open the door and it slid open as she yanked on the handle.

~o~o~o~

The smile on Astrid's face showed the tips of her sharp incisors. Her sharp hearing had picked up the sound of the door opening. "She came." She looked sidelong at Arnbjorn whose face immediately turned into a scowl.

Babette's smile looked equally as delighted. She hopped up from her chair and clapped her hands.

"She'll be dead within a week," Arnbjorn growled.

Striding over to her husband she put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "If you harm her, Arn, so help me!" She glanced around at all the assassins assembled in the cavern. "That goes for all of you. This girl is to become a part of our family. She doesn't need to be coddled, but I won't have any of you harming her. Am I clear?"

There were mumbled assents from all and a grudging one from her husband.

"Family. Pah!" He spat on the rocky stone floor and went back to sharpening the blade of his axe.

"Well, I should go greet our newest member." Astrid turned to walk up the narrow hallway to the entry way and turned to Babette. "Keep everyone here so the girl can meet us all."

Babette nodded. "As you wish. I can hardly wait to see what she's like when she is awake."

Astrid was waiting at her desk when Nessa came down the hall. "I'm happy to see you took me up on my invitation. I think you'll like it here. Everyone is very eager to meet you."

"Thank you," Nessa looked around the chamber that served as both an office for Astrid and lobby to the sanctuary. "I… don't have my things. I guess they must be back in Riften."

"We'll see you're properly outfitted and given everything you need. In fact, I believe I have a set of lightweight but sturdy leather armor that should fit you perfectly." She swept Nessa with critical eye. "You've lost weight. You're looking rather gaunt, my dear. Didn't you eat?"

"The trip was long and I had no money. I had to forage and hunt for myself." Nessa shrugged. "I'm a pretty good hunter, but I'm not a very good cook. I got sick."

She couldn't help herself; the girl was so sweet and honest. She turned her face away to try to hide her smile. "Ah! Babette is a genius with potions. She'll have you feeling better in no time. Gabrielle knows a bit of restoration magic too." She came around the desk and wrapped a protective arm around Nessa then tipped her face up and looked at her in the torch light. "You look exhausted too." She tsked and began to walk her down the hallway, leading to the cavern that served as their commons. "You'll meet the others and then you'll have a big meal, a bath and a good long rest." She kissed her gently on the forehead. "Welcome home, Nessa. Your new family awaits you."

They arrived in the commons where Babette was retelling the story of her latest contract.

"You're such a pretty little girl," she said in a creaky old man's voice. "Would the sweetie like a sweetie? Oh yes? How about some chocolate?"

"Oh yes, please!" Her voice took on a child's quality. "My momma and poppa left me all alone and I'm so very hungry! I know a shortcut to the candy shop. It's through this alley."

The others laughed and nudged one another, knowing what was coming next. Nessa looked in wonder at the little girl and then cast a confused look at Astrid. "Surely she's not…" Nessa whispered.

Astrid gave a low, quiet chuckle. "There's more to her than is apparent." She leaned in close to Nessa and whispered into her ear. "She's actually a three-hundred year old vampire. The oldest I've ever known. Her name is Babette. So very fitting, don't you think?"

Nessa swallowed hard. "A vampire?" she whispered back. The tales she had heard, ones children had told each other to terrify themselves mostly, surely they were just stories.

The guild leader noted how the new recruit shivered, but she nodded at her and smiled. "This family is very surprising, as I think you will see. But we do take care of one another, so you need never fear from any of us, no matter how unusual you may find us."

Reassured by her kindness, Nessa turned back to the little girl… ancient vampire, she corrected herself.

"Oh yes, very good," Babette said in the old man's voice. "My but it is dark down here. Oh, but you are so beautiful! Such a lovely smile, my dear. Oh… but your teeth! Your teeth! No! Argh!"

The other assassins erupted into laughter and applauded the girl's performance. She made a prim, curtsy and flounced over to Astrid and the newcomer. "Welcome, sister!" she said and threw her arms around Nessa's waist to hug her.

Nessa's instincts were to respond to the young girl's enthusiastic welcome as she would to any sweet, guileless child, but this one was an ancient vampire. She had no idea how to react.

"Thank you," she said politely. "It is… a pleasure to meet you, Babette."

Astrid let go of Nessa's waist and clapped her hands to bring everyone to order. "Please, brothers and sisters. If you will be quiet a moment..." She waited for the babble to cease then she took Nessa's hands. "I would like to introduce our newest member. This is Nessa, lately of Riften. Please make her feel at home here amongst us."

All the assassins turned to look at Nessa and she felt like a tiny bug under their scrutiny. There gazes ranged from warm to wary, one man seemed unwilling to meet her eyes at all. They were such a disparate group. There was an old man who Nessa thought looked as old as Babette actually was, a dark elf of middle years, a tall, handsome Nord, one of the lizard men, and a stately-looking Redguard who had a golden ring woven into his long, black beard.

They each, in turn, introduced themselves to Nessa. Oddly, despite his cold skin, the lizard-man, Argonian, Veezara was one of the warmer people. He seemed quite happy to meet Nessa and hear her story. The old man, Festus, was rather grumpy. The dark elf, Gabriella, had an odd sense of humor and used it to deflect questions away from herself. The Redguard, Nazir, was nice, but a little aloof.

"I will be giving you your contracts until Astrid has something for you," he explained.

Nessa nodded and shook his hand politely, trying not to stare at the ring in his beard wondering if how it stayed in and whether he took it out at night to sleep. _Divines! I am exhausted._ Such crazy thoughts were running through her mind.

Last of all was the man who refused to look at her when she was introduced. The tall, fair Nord was barefoot and dressed in skintight leathers. His very pale hair fell to just below his shoulders, very wide shoulders Nessa noted. Maybe it was due to her exhaustion, but her mouth dropped open at his physical beauty. He finally lifted his eyes to meet hers and there was something feral about them. They were golden, like a wolf's. Her mouth went dry and she rotely extended her hand to shake his, as she had done for all the others.

He stared at her but didn't extend his hand.

"Don't be surly, Arn. Introduce yourself to Nessa," Astrid said, giving her husband a significant look.

His mouth twisted into a smirk and he took Nessa's hand into his. He couldn't help but notice her intensely blue eyes. Despite how angry this girl's presence made him, her eyes were fascinating, he had to admit that. "It's always nice to meet raw meat. My beautiful wife has told me all about you."

Nessa swallowed at the feel of her smaller hand in his warm, calloused one. She couldn't pull her eyes away from his. "I… I… I'm pleased to meet you," she said barely above a whisper.

Her hesitation made Arnbjorn smile. The girl was clearly intimidated by him. "I give you a week before you end up dead in a ditch." He gripped her hand firmer than was necessary and enjoyed watching her startled reaction to his rudeness.

"Arn!" Astrid sounded annoyed.

Nessa tried to pull back her hand but Arnbjorn kept it firmly in his own. "Don't try to get to know me. I don't like you, I never will. It's nothing personal but… Look, here's all you need to know about me. I'm a werewolf. I like killing things. I love Astrid. I hate annoying people. And the color blue gives me a headache." He dropped her hand suddenly and grinned at her. "Let me guess, Astrid didn't tell you I was her husband. She has a habit of doing that." He shot his wife another annoyed look and strode away suddenly.

"Oh!" Nessa looked at Astrid almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were married." _That was stupid! Why am I apologizing? _As soon as she thought it, she knew. She had practically made a fool of herself, so taken was she with Arnbjorn. Now he hated her… _why?_

Astrid sighed and shook her head. "He's quite impossible at times." She wrapped her arm around Nessa's shoulders again. "Ignore him. He'll come around." She looked around for Babette and called her over. "Nessa has been ill. Do you have anything for her?"

"Maybe! What are your symptoms, dear?" The little vampire asked, smiling at the new recruit.

Nessa blushed. "I think I had some bad food. Maybe some sort of parasite, too. I might not have cooked that venison enough."

"You should leave the raw meat for Arnbjorn," Babette quipped. "He seems able to eat almost anything and it never bothers him. But for you, I think I can concoct a potion that'll take care of you. I'll be right back." She turned and dashed off up the stairs nearly running headlong into Gabriella. Nessa heard her girlish laugh and then she disappeared.

"Meanwhile, I bet you'd like a warm bath, hmmmm?" Astrid guided her up the stairs Babette had just run up. "We have a lovely feature in our sanctuary. There is a hot mineral spring. We spend an inordinate amount of time soaking in it when we're not busy with contracts."

"Oh! That sounds wonderful," Nessa said. It had been a long, long trip and she had only had cold pools of water to wash in. Needless to say, she could have been much cleaner when she arrived at the sanctuary.

"I hope you're not shy. We are family after all and there is only the one hot spring so we bathe together at times."

"I'm…" Nessa wondered what she meant by together, the men and women together? "I'm not shy." Nothing could be further from the truth. She already felt naked and exposed before these people, taking her clothes off… _be brave, _she told herself.

"Good! Then I'll join you if you don't mind."

"Of course," Nessa said, speaking more boldly than she felt. Something in particular about Astrid was making her nervous. It was the way the older woman always seemed to touch her. Even more so, it was the fact that she, Nessa, liked it.

The hot spring was in a lovely grotto. Cold water streamed down a wall and fell into the pool fed by hot water coming from underground. The room was steamy and hot and the large boulders inside were covered in pretty green moss. There was a wooden bench placed outside where they left their clothes and then slipped inside to sink into the hot pool.

Nessa was happy to find the pool was rather cloudy with minerals, so she could hide her nakedness under the water. Astrid seemed to have no concerns whatsoever and she sat with her breasts bobbing gently on the water. The glances Nessa stole at the older woman confirmed she was much curvier than Nessa. Her breasts were a somewhat larger and her hips were too. But then she was older, maybe by ten years or so, making her around thirty.

"So, hmmmm, this is lovely, isn't it?" Astrid lounged against the rock walls of the pool and closed her eyes. "Do you have any questions for me? You must be curious. You've been awfully quiet since you arrived."

"I guess I am a little shy around new people at first," Nessa admitted. "Yes, I do have questions." She watched Astrid relax and hoped she wasn't being too personal. "Is your husband truly a werewoof?"

_She's quite taken with him! _She didn't know whether to feel jealous or delighted. It was definitely an odd situation to feel a little jealous of one's own husband. It was a little vexing, but only just a little. The girl would definitely liven things up around here. She stifled a laugh thinking she would have to be certain to throw Arnbjorn and Nessa together whenever possible. Really, it was far too amusing. Arnbjorn was jealous of Nessa and Astrid was jealous of Arnbjorn. Babette was going to love this when she found out.

"Oh, sorry! My mind wandered for a moment." Astrid apologized for her silence. "Yes, my husband is a werewolf. But don't worry about him, he won't hurt you"

"I think he hates me," Nessa said, her eyes conveying her hurt. "Why? I don't even know him."

"He's always suspicious of newcomers. Don't worry, little sister, he'll come around in time." Astrid cleared her throat. "I suppose I should tell you something about myself." She unfastened her braid and combed through her hair with her fingers. "I, like Babette, am a vampire."

Nessa jumped involuntarily and the water splashed a bit. "You… you're a vampire?"

Astrid smiled a little larger than she had before in the girl's presence and Nessa saw her sharp incisors. "Don't be alarmed, my dear. I wouldn't dream of harming you, or taking your blood."

Nessa's eyes were wide with the revelation. "Take my blood?"

"It's not necessary, so don't even concern yourself with it. I have plenty of opportunities to feed in our line of work, and Arnbjorn is generous with his blood. Such a big, healthy man like him doesn't miss a bit of blood."

Nessa stared at her with wide-eyes. "You drink your husband's blood?" This night seemed to deliver one shock after another to her.

Her shoulder rose in a little shrug. "It can be rather a pleasurable, intimate experience for us both." She moved closer to Nessa. "You see, I can sense the life blood pulsing in anyone." She raised her hand out of the hot water and traced a line along the column of Nessa's throat gently, with a fingernail. "Right here, it pulses strongest." Her finger came to rest over the artery. "One bite can bring exquisite pleasure, or death. Or both."

Nessa shivered under the finger. Her flesh was goose-pimpling with fear and desire. _Desire? I'm losing my mind._

Astrid laughed and pulled her hand away. "You're safe from me though. No matter how delicious your blood smells none of us would ever feed on a family member, or harm them in any way, without mutual consent." Astrid's rich warm laughter echoed throughout the grotto. "Ah, my dear. You need to have a good dinner, drink Babette's potion, and have a good long rest."

Nessa finished bathing and Astrid gave her a nightshirt and a robe. She ate a very large dinner and Babette's potion did settle her disturbed guts, making her very sleepy as well. Even though her head was swirling from meeting her new _family_ she couldn't keep her eyes open a moment longer. Two weeks of traveling across Skyrim and her illness had left her exhausted. _Perhaps in the morning things won't be so confusing. _She yawned and burrowed under the covers of the soft, fur covered bed they had given her. Not even childhood tales of vampires and werewolves could keep her awake a moment longer… or the memory of Astrid's fingers on her neck.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__I definitely am writing a soap-opera, aren't I? I certainly appreciate the reviews! I'm trying to divide my time between this and "Post-Blight Management for Dummies". These chapters are shorter and the plot is only getting underway so it tends to be a little easier to write._

_My ultra-mega-thanks to whoopsiedoodle, Biff McLaughlin, Zevgirl, NekoMara, Ethizen, x_Janelle_x_, Mr CJ of Blackwater _for taking the time to review. You all are feeding the muse and she appreciates your contribution! I love hearing from my readers. Please review!_

_Some interesting notes on my Skyrim game. I ran into Cicero outside of Whiterun before I even did the quest "Innocence Lost". His cart had a broken wheel and he needed my help getting it fixed. Also, in my game the prisoners didn't have bags on their heads, but their voices are muffled. It's rather funny. _

_You might have noticed that Nessa has a little trouble pronouncing werewolf correctly. It always comes out as werewoof. _


	5. Chapter 5

_Another day dawns in Skyrim and Nessa is so very confused about… everything!_

_Please read and review!_

**Sanctuary **

The couple got ready for bed in silence. His eyes stabbed her accusingly as he removed his leather chestpiece. She tried to repress a smile, but her amusement shone through her eyes. She watched him watching her as she pulled on a comfortable old shirt to sleep in. Finally he couldn't contain his ire.

"Why bother, Astrid." His lip curled in a snarl. "You want to be with her then go! When you're tired of her, come back. Maybe I'll still be here." His voice was rough with anger. He yanked at the laces on his trousers and managed to break them. He threw the broken laces across the room and shucked his pants off.

"Arn, my love." Her voice was a silken purr, meant to soothe. It was what he loved best about her and she knew that well. Her voice could always reach through his bestial nature and soothe him, even when he was a wolf. "Don't be jealous. She will never replace what we have together. She simply… augments it." She moved up behind him and slid a hand up his back to his ear and she rubbed it as she did when he was a wolf. Leaning in she lowered her voice. "Can't you imagine the two of us together? I would show her all the delights a woman can give another woman." She let her slender fingers trail down his neck just as she'd done with Nessa earlier. "Can't you see our bodies sliding together, her gasping and arching off the bed as I bring her to heights of ecstasy?" She ran her finger around his ear and let her hot breath buffet him as she spoke. "Then, I'd tempt her with something she truly wants, my darling." She paused, noting that Arn had gone perfectly still. He'd never admit it, but he was intrigued.

He snorted. "What is it you think she truly wants?"

"Hmmmm… why you, my sweet husband. Wasn't that obvious?"

"You're crazy." He pulled away from her and put on his sleeping trousers. "Even if she did, I don't want her. I married you, Astrid."

He was being pig-headed. There was always one way to get through to him… make him angry. "Well, perhaps you're right." Her voice hardened. "Maybe I should go to her. You and I used to have such fun together and now it has gotten predictable and dull."

He whipped around and snarled at her. "You _are_ bored with me, is that it?"

She turned around to look at him, her face perfectly composed, framed in indifference. She shrugged, her gesture speaking volumes. "I thought marrying a werewolf would be exciting. The thrills, the passion, the danger…" She sighed and threw up her hands. "Now that we've been together a few years, you're becoming just as dull as my last two husbands were."

Arnbjorn's snarl turned into a growl and he began to change. His eyes began to turn more yellow than golden and his limbs darkened with black hair.

Astrid's face remained impassive, but her eyes began to glow. _That's more like it!_ She turned away from him, affecting indifference. There was a long, tortured snarl from him, but she ignored him, turning down the furs on their bed. Then he was on her, pushing her face first into the bed. His jaws clamped on the back of her neck and held her firmly. His hands, not yet paws, pushed up her nightshirt and he mounted her, pushing himself into her with one brutal thrust of not entirely human hips.

Astrid's smile reached her lips and she hissed with pleasure. She'd been ready ever since bathing with Nessa, but it wasn't her way to let Arnbjorn control things. She struggled to her hands under his considerable mass and, with extraordinary strength of her own, wrestled with him. His teeth scored the skin on her neck and she could feel her own blood rolling down her back.

"Oooh, Arn," she half-laughed as she panted from the exertion of struggling with him, "I'll be replacing that with your own blood, you hairy son-of-a-bitch!" With a combination of shoves and joint locks she finally got him on the bed, face up, and crouched over him, her silvery eyes looking into his yellow ones. "It seems you've forgotten the one rule of our sanctuary." Arnbjorn couldn't respond; he was too far gone. All he could do was growl and snap at her.

"Obey Astrid," she said narrowing her eyes. She slapped his face suddenly, viciously. Her fingernails scored his cheek, leaving three bleeding tracks. She leaned forward, licking the blood welling up from the wounds, and then impaled herself on him, rocking her hips, her eyes never leaving his. She put one hand on the base of his throat, her sharp fingernails threatening to clench and her other hand sought out her bud. She rode him slowly, deliberately making sure she would find her own pleasure first.

He began to transform back. It wasn't anything conscious, he always told her, but this brought him out of the wolf madness. She slowed her pace even more but she was too excited to wait. Her vision blurred and the lure of his blood was more than she could resist. She fell forward and sunk her fangs into the vein throbbing in his neck and he cried out with a wordless shout and grasped her hips as he climaxed along with her. His last erratic spasms coincided with the blood surging from his opened vein, with the pumping of his heart. Astrid drank as she climaxed. Her body squeezed him with strong contractions that seemed to go on and on as she drank. When it was like this, primal and angry, sometimes she couldn't stop herself.

"Astrid, stop," Arnbjorn said. He pushed against her, breaking the seal of her mouth against his neck.

She gasped for a moment trying to recollect herself. She looked down at her husband. He looked a little pale but otherwise unharmed. "Oh, Arn…" She leaned forward and kissed him sweetly on the lips. "I'm sorry, I just got a little carried away."

His mouth turned up in a rare smile. "So… maybe I'm not so boring after all, eh?"

She laughed. "No, sweetheart, that was rather enjoyable." She rolled off of him onto her side of the bed and burrowed under the covers. "We should do that more often." She stroked his face, his wounds were already healing.

He chuckled quietly. "Well, that's fine, but I don't want to meet the same fate your first two husbands met."

"Hmmm… yes, there is that. But you always seem to be able to push me away when that happens. You're much stronger than they were."

He hummed but said nothing for a long moment. "Just forget about that girl, wife. You don't need her."

Astrid smiled at him enigmatically. Her husband was handsome, undeniably; strong, admittedly, but not the pointiest pike in the armory. The girl was the reason their lovemaking had been so gratifying. He would figure it out soon enough.

She snuggled into his chest. "Good night, husband."

He wrapped and arm around her and pulled her close. "Good night, love." His body was satisfied, but his mind was not. Somehow, he didn't think his wife would give up her obsession quite so easily.

_~o~o~o~_

A soft hand stroked her cheek as she awoke to the perpetual twilight of the cavern that held the sanctuary. She startled, unsure where she was at first; she had slept so soundly.

"Well, good morning, my sister," Astrid said soothingly. "How are you feeling?"

Nessa relaxed and smiled, she stretched her arms over her head and yawned. "Better now, I think. My guts aren't feeling so twisted today and this bed is much softer than the ground. I should get up. I'm sure you must have work for me." She wanted to make a good impression on her new family.

"Nazir does have some assignments for you, but they can wait a few days until you're fully rested and recovered. She pulled back Nessa's blankets and shook her head. "You're far too thin. A good assassin has stamina and you'll need some reserves to draw upon. I thought today we could review what you know about our art. Babette might have another potion for you to drink this morning, and I'm sure you must be hungry." Astrid's hand smoothed the hair back from Nessa's face. "Come see me after you've eaten. I expect you to eat heartily," she said sternly.

Nessa nodded obediently. "Yes, ma'am."

Astrid smiled and left her new protégé to dress.

~o~o~o~

"Tell me what you know about killing." Astrid asked the girl when she showed up later.

"I prefer to use my bow. I'm a very good shot."

Astrid nodded. "That's very useful, but moving silently so you're close enough for a clean shot is essential. Can you move without being seen or heard?"

Nessa nodded confidently. "Yes, ma'am. I trained with the thieves in Riften. Lots of times I had to break into a house and steal things."

"Good, we'll test you out later with that. Tell me how you killed Grelod." Astrid pierced her with her strange silver eyes.

"I sneaked into her room and waited for her. I hid in a corner." Retelling the tale both thrilled and sickened her. "When she opened her wardrobe, I wrapped a bow string around her throat and pulled it so tight she could scream or draw a breath. She just whispered… something."

Astrid leaned in, cupping her chin in her hand and directing her eyes to meet her own. She watched the girl's face avidly. She recognized the feelings Nessa was having… but it had been so long. "Tell me, what did she say?"

"She said, 'I always knew you'd come to no good.' It was what she always said to me… when she was beating me." Nessa shivered at the memory of those beatings, but then remembered that ultimately she'd won. Grelod had paid.

Astrid moved closer to Nessa. _Those feelings…to recapture them. _She placed her mouth next to Nessa's ear. "Did it excite you?" she whispered. "Did you feel powerful, like a vengeful goddess?"

Another shiver went through her as she thought about that night, her eyes slid away from Astrid's as she recollected. "It felt… good." She brought her eyes back to Astrid's, an intensity shone in them. "I… I liked it."

She could feel the girl's excitement in her quickened pulse. "Hmmmm…" Astrid closed the distance between her lips and Nessa's. They met, just barely, but lingered in the faintest kiss imaginable. When she let go of the girl's chin and pulled away there was a pink flush to her cheeks.

Nessa dropped her eyes, unsure of herself and what just happened. _Astrid is married! Even worse, she's a woman! _

Watching the girl deal with her emotions was sweeter even than the kiss. She looked so confused and conflicted. With a word or a gesture she could put the girl at ease, but this was far too fun. "When you strangled the old woman did you come up behind her like this?" She turned Nessa around and wrapped her fingers gently around her neck and pressed her body against the girl's. She could feel her heart beating even faster now.

"N… no… I wasn't so close, and I used the string."

"You should be close if you're going to strangle someone, my sweet. You can use your leg to trap one of theirs. It'll help hold them still." She twined one of her legs around Nessa's. "You see? Now I have perfect control of you. I can push you down, or move you however I like." She suddenly let go of Nessa and noticed her cheeks had gotten even redder.

"Yes, ma'am," Nessa said quietly.

"Now, I want to see you try to sneak up on me as if you held a dagger. You might not always have the distance to use your bow." She went to the other side of the room and sat with her back to Nessa. "Go ahead."

Nessa moved as quietly as she could and crept up behind the guild leader.

"I hear your heart beating, my dear. You must calm yourself," Astrid said. "Although, my hearing is a bit better than a normal human's. Still, you should try to compose yourself before you attack."

Nessa tried to still her thoughts. She tried not to think about Astrid's hand on her face, that kiss, or how her leg wrapped around her own and left her feeling helpless and exposed. It didn't work. The more she tried not to think of those things, the more heated her face became and the harder her heart beat.

Astrid smiled, hearing the girl's heart speed up. "Never mind, Nessa. Just show me what you'd do with the dagger."

Nessa closed the remaining distance and reached around the older woman's neck with her pretend dagger. Astrid's reaction was blindingly fast. She didn't know how it happened, but suddenly she was on the floor, her wind knocked out of her. Astrid was sitting on her, straddling her waist, her strange silver eyes gleamed. The vampire reached out with her hand and traced the girl's lips.

"This lesson should teach you that it is very, very difficult to surprise a vampire. Hmmmm?" Astrid leaned forward and kissed the girl again. "We will continue this lesson again, later. Unless you have some questions for me?"

Nessa thought for a moment, not really wanting the lesson to end. "Tell me about your first time." She hoped it wasn't an impertinence to ask such a personal question.

"The first time I killed?" Astrid asked, her eyebrow cocking.

Nessa nodded.

"It was my Uncle. He made certain… unwanted advances, so I killed him." She smiled remembering it. "This was long before I was a vampire. I was just a girl of fifteen. But I liked it so I killed again and I liked it even more. The Dark Brotherhood found me and saw I had certain talents so I joined them." She smiled down at Nessa. "Just like we saw that you have certain talents."

"How did you become a vampire?" Nessa braved another personal question since the answer to the first one came so effortlessly.

A laugh bubbled out of Astrid and she cupped Nessa's jaw rubbing her thumb across it. "That's a story for another time, sweet. Right now, I want you to find Arnbjorn. Tell him I want him to appraise your archery." Astrid rose gracefully and helped the girl to her feet.

_~o~o~o~_

"She told _you_ to find _me_, so I could assess your archery?" Arnbjorn glared at the young Nord, his wife's obsession. _By Hircine's hairy flank, what is my wife doing?_

Nessa stood purposefully before him. She resolved to show no fear even though his lupine eyes narrowed and a low growl came from his throat. In that moment he reminded her of all the ice wolves she'd met on the road, although, if anything, they were friendlier. An ice wolf made man; that was what he was. His pale hair was the same color as their fur: Icy white. She reminded herself she had the pelts of three ice wolves amongst her belongings in Riften. Ones she had slain. "That was what she said."

"I heard you," he snapped at her. "You needn't repeat yourself."

Her mouth dropped open in a wordless protest of his rudeness. "But you asked…"

"It wasn't a question needing an answer, stupid girl," he snarled.

Nessa was stung by his words. She'd had something of an education at the orphanage. She could read, write and do sums, although she rarely got the opportunity to do them. Still, she was literate. "I am _not _stupid! You… you're a rude werewoof!" Her voice rose with the fury that suddenly overtook her.

As if on cue, the other assassins began to edge into the great hall and watch the pair of angry Nords from a discrete distance.

"Fifty septims on Arnbjorn," Festus, the mage assassin, quietly offered.

Nazir snorted and shook his head. "As if anyone would bet against Arnbjorn…"

No one would take Festus up on it. The skinny Nord girl certainly could never stand up to the werewolf.

"Were… wolf!" Arnbjorn roared, enunciating slowly. "I am a rude werewolf."

Her eyebrows furrowing and nostrils flaring, Nessa nodded vehemently. "You certainly are! Well, I don't care if you are some sort of woof or not. You have no right to call me stupid."

Arnbjorn crashed into her, pushing her against the cavern wall, his forearm across her windpipe, threatening to choke her air off. "Wuh-luf! I am a were wuh-luf. Say it right, damn you!"

Nessa's breath seethed in and out of her nose with her anger. "Wuh-luf! You are a rude… damn… wul-luf."

They were frozen for a long moment, both angry, their eyes locked in a deadly duel even if their bodies didn't move. In the end, her eyes disarmed him. He let go of her and turned away quickly before she could see the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He strode across the room, ignoring her now.

If anything, his turning around and leaving her standing there, as if she were nothing… as if she didn't exist or account for anything, infuriated her even more. She pulled the bow off her back and an arrow from her quiver. As he walked away from her she loosened two arrows. One flew just to the right of his head; the feathers lightly brushed his cheek. Before he could react a second arrow flew, this one brushed his left cheek.

"How is my archery, werewoof? Astrid will want to hear your report."

Arnbjorn turned slowly and stared at her, confounded by her sudden belligerence. He hadn't expected that. They stared at each other a moment longer and then she slowly lowered her bow and turned away, her back rigid and shoulders thrown back. She stalked off to her room, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise as she was certain the eyes of every assassin were on her right now.

When she got to her room she changed out of the lightweight enchanted armor Astrid had given her and put on her thieves guild armor. She had acquired a new bag and stuffed the few items she owned into it. She reverently folded her assassin's armor and placed it on the bed.

So… this hadn't worked out either. She didn't know where she would go next or what she would do now. It seemed that everything she had undertaken had turned sour. First she broke the rules of the thieves' guild and now… now she would probably be lucky to leave the sanctuary with her life. Shouldering the bag with a heavy sigh, she turned to leave her room and the sanctuary.

"Oh dear, no," Babette looked up at her with alarm. "You can't possibly be thinking of leaving!" She ran to her and threw her arms around her hips. "You're the best thing that's come to the sanctuary in… well, a very long time." The little girl vampire looked up into her face, her eyes filled with tears and her lip trembled. "Astrid needs a friend, a confidant, someone she can trust. And… and… so do I."

Nessa was unused to Babette's theatrics so the display tugged at her heartstrings. She felt like she was abandoning a friend, a little girl as lost and alone as she often felt. "Astrid has Arnbjorn. She doesn't need me. Besides, he hates me." She smoothed her hand over the little girl's hair. "I've only been here a day and already I've messed everything up. I can't stay."

Babette let go of Nessa and ran to the door and shut it. "Oh no, you haven't, not at all." She trotted back over to Nessa and took her hand, pulling her over to the bed. She sat down and patted the bed next to her. "There are many intricacies of life here, Nessa. Things are rarely as they seem on the surface." She squeezed the Nord girl's hand and smiled at her girlishly. "You see me as a little girl, but I'm not. You think Arnbjorn hates you, but he doesn't. He may be jealous of you, but after your fight out there, he respects you. In fact… I think everyone respects you and what you did. Leaving now would be a mistake."

Tilting her head, Nessa looked at Babette wonderingly. "They respect me for that?"

Full dimples showing, Babette nodded vigorously. "Oh, definitely! You stood up to a big, mean _werewoof_ and your display of archery was very impressive."

"Now you're making fun of me." Nessa expression darkened.

Babette laughed and squeezed her hand again. "I think the way you say werewolf is funny. I'm going to say it like you from now on."

Nessa smiled at the little girl and shook her head. "Better not. It will just make him hate me more."

"Don't go, Nessa!" Babette wrapped her arms around Nessa as if she could hold her in place.

"I… I don't want to come between Astrid and Arnbjorn. That's why I make him so angry, isn't it?" Nessa stole a look at Babette wondering if she would even know of such things.

"Astrid loves Arnbjorn, Nessa. That will never change. But vampires live a very long time and sometimes they need some… diversity to keep their love fresh."

She could barely believe she was having this conversation with a vampire that looked like a ten-year-old girl. "Diversity. So that's what I would be to her? It just seems so… unnatural for a woman to want another woman."

Babette shook her head and tsked. "Oh, my dear, you are so young and naïve. I can see you haven't read terribly extensively or this idea wouldn't be so foreign to you. If you stay with us, I will show you some books to read that you might find _very _interesting." She hugged Nessa's arm again. "Promise me you'll stay?"

Her head swimming she tried to take in everything Babette had told her, that they all respected her…_ her. _She nodded slowly. "I will stay."

"Goody!" Babette clapped her hands and ran for the door. "I'll be right back with some books for you to read." She left the room, closing the door behind her. Astrid was going to love hearing about all this.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Poor Nessa is so young and inexperienced at life. It took a tremendous amount of courage for her to stand up to Arnbjorn. _

_Raven Hunter, NekoMara, Biff McLaughlin, Zevgirl, x_Janelle_x, anon, whoopsiedoodle, freshneverfrozen thanks so much for the reviews! They make writing worthwhile. _

_My perpetual appreciation to my girls, Biff and Zevgirl, for their Googly support._

_Thanks for reading!_

_I'm also working on Post-Blight Management for Dummies, if you enjoy Dragon Age tales._


	6. Chapter 6

_**Notes: **__M rating is earned here as we refer to the reproductive parts of plants… and people! Please read and review!_

**_The Sanctuary_**

"The little princess thought she would be sold in Rihad as a concubine, as no Nord or Breton would want her, due to her dark skin, and no dark elf would have her due to her foreign upbringing…" Babette noticed the puzzled look on Nessa's face and stopped reading. "What's wrong?"

"What's a concubine? I thought they were those spikey animals in the forest."

Babette laughed. "No, dear, those are porcupines. A concubine is a secondary wife or perhaps a mistress."

She furrowed her brow again. "You mean a whore?"

"No! A whore sells herself to many different men. A concubine stays with just one man. She's not exactly a wife, but sort of like one," Babette explained patiently. "She brings him status and is committed to his pleasure. Sometimes a concubine's sons are acknowledged as heirs, but not usually."

Rolling her eyes, Nessa sighed deeply. "How barbaric! I'd kill anyone that suggested such a thing to me. At least if you're a whore no one owns you."

"No one except the man who has just purchased your favors," Babette pointed out.

"No more so than you own the carpenter who builds you a table. You've just purchased their abilities for a few hours," Nessa argued.

Babette stared at her a moment and then nodded. "I suppose you have a point there. Well, in some places a concubine is treated very well and they have a higher status than most women."

"So… I mean, this is all very interesting, Babette, but what does Barenziah have to do with… ummm… women and well… you know."

"Oh, Nessa. You mustn't be afraid of naming things - love between women."

"Um, yes, I suppose," Nessa took out her dagger. She took a keen interest in honing it. Being tutored in _this_ by a ten-year-old girl, even if she was a 300-year-old vampire was strange.

"All right, I'll skip ahead to the good part." She thumbed through the pages of the book until she found the passage she was seeking. "Blah, blah, blah…Barenziah ran away and later spent some time in Markarth and stumbled upon a temple of Dibella. Here we go! One of the priestesses took a particular interest in her.

"Barenziah's youthful loveliness fascinated the priestess, Julia, and she fell in love with the dark elf. But Barenziah had only experienced pleasure with men, and one Khajiit in Riften, and she didn't know what to make of the priestesses advances. One evening Julia let Barenziah peep through a hidden window into the secret inner sanctum where the mysteries were practiced. Only the highest priests and priestesses were allowed to participate, and the wealthiest donors to the temple.

"She watched as each of the participants inhaled the herbs from the brazier and chanted. Then a gong sounded and the worshippers formed two circles. Accompanied only by chanting, the two circles began to move in opposite directions. They swayed and whirled in circles while singing, reaching out their hands to touch someone in the other circle. There were caresses of hand against face or hip, as they passed one another. Sometimes whispered promises were exchanged. The movements of the circling dancers sped up and sweat and torchlight gleamed on their skin. Their eyes shone with intensity and then… the gong sounded once again and the dancing suddenly stopped.

"Barenziah watched it all with fascination. Most of the priests and priestesses were lovely to look at, although some of the wealthy donors were not so pleasing. Still, no matter who was across the circle from them, they came together in lustful embraces. Whether it was a man and a woman, or a woman and a woman, or a man and a man, all surrendered to Dibella's will. Clothes began to fall like petals from delicate flowers in a wind storm.

"'Do you see that pair?' Julia whispered to Barenziah, pointing out the tall, fair Nord and the Dunmer.

"Speechless, she nodded as they began undressing one another. The Dunmer priestess seemed fascinated by the Nord's breasts. She held them like overripe melons and suckled on their dark tips while the other priestess pushed up the skirts on the dark elf and caressed her thighs." Babette stole a glance at Nessa whose eyes were looking a little glazed, and cheeks were becoming fetchingly pink. She had finally stopped sharpening her blade.

Nessa jumped off her bed. "I think that's enough. Dinner is ready soon and I should… um… imp stools, white caps. We have another alchemy lesson, don't we?"

Her dimples always gave her away when she tried not to smile. Babette picked up a dried red mountain flower from Nessa's collection of herbs and inserted it into the book where she had left off reading. "All right. This is where I left off reading… the good part. You can read it later." She stood off and laid the book down carefully on Nessa's bed. "You know…", she looked appraisingly at Nessa, "you look a little tired. A little nap might do you good." She skipped out of Nessa's room, shutting the door behind her.

Babette giggled all the way down the passageway until she ran into Astrid.

Astrid arched an eyebrow at her giggling friend. "What's so amusing, Babette? Seeing you this happy makes me nervous."

"Oh, nothing. I'm just seeing that our newest recruit is properly educated."

"Hmmm… and just what are you tutoring her in?" Astrid was genuinely curious.

"I gave her some stories to read. Remember that lost volume of Barenziah I found a few decades back?" Babette's dimples twinkled with amusement.

"Oh! The one with the stories from Markarth?" Astrid's smile grew. "Not the priestess Julia story?"

"The very one," Babette said, winking at Astrid.

"Ah! Well… a very good reading choice for her. I approve. Please continue to supervise her reading selections."

"As you wish, guild mistress," Babette said, sarcastically.

"Little minx!" Astrid laughed at her friend.

"Queen bitch," Babette shot back.

Both of them were chuckling as they parted ways.

**_~o~o~o~_**

She was going to get up and work on her archery, no… collect some mushroom, or get something to eat. Astrid wanted her to eat more. _Astrid…_ She shut her eyes and could see herself as the dark elven priestess and Astrid as the Nord. Her determination to do something useful faded away quickly and the book tugged her back to the bed. She sat down and opened it to the page Babette had marked. The red flower fell to the ground unnoticed.

"As Barenziah watched the two priestesses entwine, Julia saw an avid gleam developing in her eyes. She leaned close to the beautiful dark elf and whispered in her pointed ear. 'Do you see what she's doing with her mouth?'

"Barenziah had never seen anything like this. Certainly Straw, Therris, and the occasional soldier had been fun, but this… the way the dark elf was crying out and writhing in ecstasy… this was something she very much wanted. She turned away from the little hidden window and looked intently at Julia. 'Where's your bed?'

Nessa read on, not even realizing how much time was passing. The two women in the story ended up on the reverend mother's bed, since the acolyte Julia didn't have her own room and the reverend mother was involved in the ritual.

"Julia's tongue probed Barenziah's damp cleft, her lips sucking gently on the swollen pomegranate seed at the top. The dark elf princess gasped with pleasure and wove her hands into Julia's fair hair. With her free hand, the acolyte pressed a finger inside her and searched for the _altar of Dibella_, the secret spot their order held as one of the sacred keys of feminine pleasure. Barenziah's moan assured her that her training had not failed her as the dark elf reached the first of what would be many climaxes that afternoon."

The book fell out of Nessa's hands and she tugged madly at the laces on her leathers. _Pomegranate seed? Secret pleasure altar? _Promptings from her loins hinted that such things must exist. She finally got free of her clothes and set about exploring her own body in earnest.

Nessa was not a maiden. Her adoptive brother had tried to rape her, but she'd fought him off and then had left that family the very next day. On her own she'd fallen in with a Stormcloak soldier and he had taken her maidenhead. It was pleasant, but not satisfying. She'd been puzzled over the obvious completion he had found in the act and wondered if something was wrong with her. Then she'd been swept up with the Stormcloaks in an ambush and had nearly been executed. That had been the extent of her carnal experiences, such as they were.

_Damp cleft? _Her fingers did find herself surprisingly damp, indeed. She lay on her side and searched for a pomegranate seed… _at the top of the cleft?_ Her fingers dragged across herself until she noted a spot that seemed tenderer than the others. She pressed harder at it and flinched. _Too much! _It was odd how sensitive that little area seemed to be. _Is this the pomegranate seed or the altar of Dibella? _Her fingers slid easily across it, her dampness making it rather slippery there. It felt nice but she didn't gasp or scream or do any of the things Barenziah had done. She tried a little longer but her frustration merely grew. Next she went searching for the altar of Dibella and that proved even more elusive.

Was she broken? It seemed that all this prodding and prying had simply increased her frustration and done nothing to assuage it. She sighed heavily and got up, redressing in her leathers. It was certainly time for dinner and she hated being late, then everyone would watch her coming down the stairs and, somehow, she just knew they'd know what she had been up to.

She came down the stairs quietly but Astrid saw her. "Ah! Here's our lovely new recruit, at last," she said loudly and then everyone was looking at her. She wished she could fade away into the shadows. "Come, sit by me, my dear. Move over, husband."

Heat crawled up Nessa's neck. She thought of the acolyte Julia and the Nord priestess and her eyes drifted to Astrid's cleavage. Arnbjorn got up and made room for her. She got her trencher of food and brought it over to the table and squeezed in between the pair. At first, the werewolf seemed resigned to being displaced then he lifted his head and looked directly at Nessa. His nostrils were flaring, like he was trying to pick up a scent.

_Female in heat! _A gong rang inside his head and the reverberations spread through the rest of his body. _Gods damn her, she smells wonderful._ The thought infuriated him and his face twitched as his instincts fought with his jealousy. Jealousy of the girl or his wife? He wasn't entirely sure. A sheen of sweat popped out on his forehead and he sub-vocalized a growl of frustration. He turned his attention back to the half-cooked rabbit on his plate and tore into it messily.

Astrid stole a furtive glance at Babette who was enjoying watching Arnbjorn's frustration and Nessa's confusion. She didn't have the keen sense of smell Arnbjorn did, but she could guess. Alas, it was another disadvantage to becoming a vampire; she no longer exuded the same earthy, lusty scents normal humans did. Watching her husband's reaction was nearly as fun as watching Nessa's confusion.

"So, my dear," Astrid draped an arm over Nessa's shoulders, "what have you been up to this afternoon?"

The girl flushed and looked like a cornered rabbit. "I was… reading a bit. The library here is… is… very…" She stopped, at complete loss for words.

"It's very educational. Isn't it Nessa?" Babette came to her rescue. "I got her started on some history books."

Nessa nodded and sent Babette a thankful look. "History," she mumbled. Her appetite fled and she just stared down at the food piled on her plate. She just knew everyone was looking at her. Could they know what she had been doing in her room? She looked around. Nazir, Gabriella, Veezara and Festus weren't paying her the slightest heed, but nonetheless she vowed to starve before she came to another communal meal.

Arnbjorn glanced at Nessa and, for once, felt sorry for her. His wife was toying with her every bit as mercilessly as a cat toys with a mouse before consuming it. "Eat up, girl," he said gruffly. "You're going to need to start pulling your weight around here and we can't have you fainting from hunger when you're stalking your prey."

Nessa looked at Arnbjorn and nodded curtly. She hadn't forgotten how rude he had been to her. Why did he care if she starved or not? She took a bite of food and found her appetite returning. She focused in on her meal and tried to ignore how closely Astrid was pressing her leg against her own.

"So, in another day or two, Nessa, Nazir will have a few contracts to give you. Do you think you'll be ready?" Astrid asked. She placed her hand on Nessa's knee, under the table.

Nessa was just tearing a chunk of bread off with her teeth and the hand on her knee made her freeze for a moment. She swallowed the unchewed bread and it didn't go down correctly. She was seized with a coughing fit until it suddenly came free and, to her horror, sailed out of her mouth and halfway across the table.

Nazir looked away from his conversation with Veezara. "Careful there, new girl. I'd hate to lose you before you even get your first contract. If you're going to die on me, at least have the decency to do it during a job."

"My poor dear!" Astrid said solicitously. "Are you all right?" She rubbed Nessa on the back. "I think perhaps we should go and let you eat in peace. Babette? Arn?" Astrid got up and gave Nessa a quick hug. "We'll talk tomorrow, my dear. Sleep well." She and Babette started up the stairs but she stopped when she noticed Arnbjorn wasn't with them. "Arn?"

"I'll be up in a while," he said. "I want another rabbit."

Astrid's eyes went between her husband and the girl and she smiled at him. "Of course, dear."

Arnbjorn didn't get up to get another rabbit; he sat and stared at Nessa. There wasn't any use fighting it, Astrid would get what she wanted. If his wife wanted to seduce this girl she would do it. Perhaps his wife was far more subtle than he was, but they'd been together long enough for him to have an idea of what she was planning. But this girl was an innocent. She had no idea how those two vampires were manipulating her.

"It's all right, morsel," he finally said, his voice pitched low so the others wouldn't hear him. "I love my wife and I'll do anything for her. If that means standing aside for you, temporarily, then I will."

Nessa's fork clattered to the table and she turned to stare at Arnbjorn. "I don't think…"

"That's shit and you know it. We both know she wants you. I knew she would before she even set eyes on you." He snorted and speared a potato on Nessa's plate. "You're not going to eat that, are you?"

"You knew that? How?" Nessa asked, ignoring the stolen potato she didn't want anyway.

"I carted you to her. I got a look at you." He picked up the potato in his hand and bit it in half. He chewed a few times, looking at the girl. "You're her, you know. Before she turned. She sees herself in you." He smiled ironically at the girl. "You make her remember what it was like to be truly alive, truly human."

Nessa watched Arnbjorn carefully. This was a side of the man she'd never seen before. He actually did care about people, his wife, certainly. She found herself actually liking him. _Gods, yes, he is handsome… _she could certainly understand why Astrid loved him. But now she found there was more to him than just good looks. He was loyal and protective of Astrid… indulgent of her whims. "I don't want to come between you and your wife, Arnbjorn," Nessa whispered. "I don't know about… I mean it wasn't ever my intention for things to be like this. I mean, she's very beautiful, but you two are married and I'm… I'm no one."

He snorted with amusement again. "You have no idea, tidbit, do you? Gods, you are an innocent. Well, that won't last long." He clapped a hand on her shoulder. "A word of advice, ham shank. Don't fall in love with her. She's mine." He rose from his chair and stretched. "Night." He nodded to the other assassins and left.

Nessa stared down at the cold remains of her dinner and wished with all her heart she was back at the thieves' guild in Riften. She had fit in there. Here, despite Astrid insisting they were a family, she felt very much like an outsider.

**~o~o~o~**

_**Notes: **__My thanks to Ebonclaw, Biff McLaughlin, Raven Hunter, Janele, TheOtherLaChance, Zevgirl, Ethizen and whoopsiedoodle for the reviews! You're all awesome! I love reader feedback._

_For those of you who haven't played Skyrim, Arnbjorn always calls the Dragon Born food names. He explains he can't help it, he's a werewolf and the DB looks like food to him. I absolutely loved it when he called my character tidbit or morsel. Almost as much as when Brynjolf calls me "lass". *fan-girl sigh*_

_My thanks to Zevgirl and Biff for their feedback on Google+. _


	7. Chapter 7

**The Sanctuary**

Nazir watched the new girl - he'd forgotten her name already - at her target practice. She was fast and she was accurate with her bow. Perhaps she wouldn't disappoint, but he was still dubious. The Brotherhood had been dwindling in size for years and at times even Nazir was amazed at how dysfunctional their strange family could be. In his estimation it was the vampires. They seemed to thrive on drama and if there wasn't enough to suit them, they would soon manufacture some. Arnbjorn seemed to think the whole reason the new girl was here was to give Babette and Astrid something to do, although, as he watched her, he could see her skills were not to be easily dismissed. He waited until she walked to the target to retrieve her arrows. "Astrid wants me to give you your first contract."

She turned away from the target and looked at Nazir. Despite his impressive height and mass, the man seemed friendly enough. His voice was low and pleasant and he spoke as if he were well educated. "Yes, sir. I'm happy to get started," she replied.

He rolled his eyes. "Save the niceties for now. I have no intention of getting invested in someone who may be dead tomorrow. If you're still breathing in a few weeks, I'm sure we'll be the best of friends."

Taken aback by his stinging comment, Nessa frowned but said nothing more.

"This isn't particularly glamorous. The target is a mine owner, Beitild, over in Dawnstar. It's completely up to you how to do it. The contract doesn't require anything specific."

"Who wants her dead?" Nessa asked.

"Ha ha! Very funny, new girl, and that isn't any of your business, but I'll tell you this time. She and her husband are separated and they run competing mines. Let's just say… they didn't part amicably and leave it at that."

"Gods… her husband?" Nessa flinched at the thought of a marriage going so terribly wrong.

"I have a bit of advice for you, new girl. Don't ask questions you don't want to hear the answer to and try not to talk to your targets. It makes it harder to kill them sometimes. You'll hear a sad story from them and then you'll start to question things. I guarantee it, most of the time they're lying."

Nessa nodded her head. She could imagine the sort of story Grelod would have told someone. Maybe she could actually have made someone feel sorry for her, although Nessa couldn't imagine anyone feeling sorry for that horrible old woman. "Very well. Beitild. Dawnstar. Got it. Any advice?"

"She's an angry woman and tends to lash out in anger. She gets into fights. No one would question you if you had to defend yourself. On the other hand you might find it easier to slip into her house late at night and cut her throat. Either way, she's dead."

A contract. Nessa, in a bit of a daze, thought that now she was a professional killer. Her mind went numb. What should I be feeling now? She didn't feel anything. It must take time for these things to sort out.

"Any other questions, new girl?" Nazir asked.

"My name is Nessa."

"I'll learn your name if you're alive after a few weeks, new girl." He clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Don't disappoint me." Gods, she was too skinny and too young. Even if she was fast with a bow he doubted she would have the strength and stamina for the job. "Oh, and try not to die. I hate that."

"I won't die." She turned away from the Redguard and yanked the arrows out of the target. Everyone always underestimated her. Well… it wouldn't be the first time. She jammed her arrows into her quiver and started for her room.

"Your archery is excellent," a soft voice said to her from the shadows.

She whirled around. Veezara was crouched down near the little pond inside the great hall. "Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there."

The Argonian smiled kindly at Nessa. "I was trained from birth to be an assassin, I'm often overlooked. It's an advantage, really."

Nessa crouched down next to him, feeling uncomfortable towering over him. "From birth?"

"I am Shadowscale, hatched under the sign of the shadow. I was trained in the arts of stealth and assassination by the Dark Brotherhood. I am the last of my kind. Now my order is extinct, but I happily serve Astrid, and this sanctuary."

"Is there anything I can bring you from Dawnstar, Veezara? I'm going there." Nessa wanted to do something nice for him; he'd been so pleasant to her any time they'd talked.

He shook his head. "No. Don't trouble yourself on my account, my friend. But there is something I want you to have." He handed her a black arrow with black feathers. "An ebony arrow. They've always brought me luck."

Taking the black arrow from him Nessa carefully put it into her quiver. "Thank you, Veezara. I may need some luck one of these days."

"Walk in shadow, my sister." He patted her on the arm.

Nessa got up and walked up the stairs to her room.

"He likes maple candy."

"Gabrielle!" Nessa hadn't seen her either. She tended to disappear into shadow with her dark skin. She was going to have to get used to people popping out of the shadows. "Oh… Veezara likes maple candy?"

Nodding, Gabrielle handed Nessa a bottle. "Poison, if you need it. I just milked the venom out of Frosty this morning and brewed that fresh."

"Oh, thanks!" Nessa was touched by the thoughtful gift. The people here were a little odd, but seemed nice in their own way. "Can I bring you anything from Dawnstar?"

"If the apothecary has any giant's toe, I could use one. They've gone… _extinct_ around these parts." She smiled lopsidedly. "Can't imagine why."

"Fair enough. Thanks again for the poison."

"Astrid likes marzipan." Gabrille added. "Might be hard to find in Dawnstar."

"Marzipan, maple sugar and giant's toe. Got it."

"Good journey, sister." Gabrielle nodded formally and went to the alchemy table.

She made it to her room and packed the few things she would need. She decided to dress plainly and take a wagon from nearby Falkreath to Dawnstar. If anyone asked, she could say she was on the way to Winterhold to visit her cousin at the mages' college.

She took a look around her room and wondered if she would ever see it again. She frowned thinking Nazir's pessimism was rubbing off on her. Of course she would survive. This should be as simple as killing Grelod. She left her room and walked up the hallway past Astrid's office.

"Nessa." Astrid called her name as she passed her office. "Come in a moment."

She turned into the side room that Astrid used as an office. She was bent over a big map of Skyrim now, her finger tracing along a road. She straightened and smiled at her protégé. "Here's some money for your expenses and a little extra. I want you to have fun." She picked up a small sack of coins and handed it to Nessa. "If I could, I'd go with you, but we're expecting the Night Mother and her keeper to arrive any day."

"The Night Mother?" Nessa asked.

"Yes, you're familiar with the story of Night Mother, the unholy bride of Sithis?" she asked.

Nessa shook her head. "Not very. Just stories kids told each other at the orphanage."

"The Night Mother married Sithis and gave him five children, which she sacrificed to him. She died long ago, but her corpse is still around and a _keeper_ takes care of it. Once she would speak through a _listener_ and tell them whenever the Black Sacrament was performed. Then the listener would dispatch someone and a contract would be reached. Very nice, except the last listener was killed and there hasn't been one since. Now all of the Dark Brotherhood sanctuaries have been raided and rooted out all over Tamriel except ours. We are the last." She made a sour face. "The current keeper is bringing the Night Mother here to keep her safe."

"You don't seem happy about that."

"Hmmm…" Astrid mused. "No, I'm not." She walked over to Nessa and stroked her cheek, her eyes looking more serious than normal. "Keep this to yourself, my sister."

Nessa nodded and looked at Astrid intently.

"We're not a conventional Dark Brotherhood sanctuary. We've discarded the old ways and I run this organization in a manner that suits us just fine." She began to pace as she explained. "The old ways didn't help any of the other sanctuaries. They're all gone now. We are the last. We've had to adapt and be flexible. Someone does the Black Sacrament and we hear about it, eventually. Or one of our many associates will bring us word of a contract. We get by. _I_ make certain we get by." Her voice hardened and she sounded fiercely protective of her group of assassins.

"Will that change with the Night Mother coming here?" Nessa asked.

Astrid stopped pacing and turned to look at Nessa. Seeing her standing there, looking so innocent and young, put things into perspective. There was no need for the Night Mother's coming to change anything. Her keeper could keep the moldering old corpse out of sight somewhere. Hopefully, whoever the keeper was, they'd be smart enough to see how things stood here and who was really in charge. And if not… well… the keeper might find himself on the wrong end of a dagger.

"No, my sweet. I see no reason for it." She stopped pacing and sat on the edge of the map table. "The nasty old corpse and its keeper can rot together in one of the caves we'll set aside for them."

"Do you believe that this Night Mother really did talk to people? Do you think," she lowered her voice to speak his name, "Sithis is really her husband. Do we go to him after we die since we are assassins?"

Astrid laughed heartily. Her rich, melodious laugh was like a lazy brook spilling over sun-warmed rocks. It seemed to warm the chilly sanctuary. "Oh my sweet, no. No, I don't. No one knows what happens to us when we die. Or at least, no one has ever come back to tell us. These are all just stories people tell to frighten others or comfort themselves."

Nessa's relief was palpable. She didn't want to be some sort of eternal handmaiden to the hideous god of chaos or his nasty wife. Astrid was right. These were just stories they told to keep people in line. She smiled at Astrid. "You must think I'm a child at times." Her own naiveté embarrassed her.

"I think," Astrid closed the distance between them and put her mouth right next to Nessa's ear, "you're absolutely adorable." She put her hand under Nessa's chin and pulled her into a soft kiss. Their lips touched delicately just for a moment. Astrid broke away even though she was sorely tempted to push further. Nessa needed time and pushing too hard, too fast, might scare her off. She wanted Nessa to be aching for her the way she was aching for Nessa.

"Hurry back, dear sister," Astrid said and she kissed her delicately on the nose. "I am going to want to hear all about your first assignment in lurid detail."

_Gods! _The kiss left Nessa nearly breathless. It was like those women in the book only it stopped far too soon. "I will, Astrid." She took one last longing look at the guild leader and turned to leave.

"Wait! Wait!" A shrill shriek echoed up the stairway followed by the pounding of feet on the stairs. "You forgot something!" Babette dashed into view holding a book. "You need to read your history lessons while you're gone." She thrust the book into Nessa's hands.

"Oh right!" Nessa quickly stuffed the book into her bag, not wanting Astrid to see the title. "Um, thanks." She hugged Babette quickly. "See you soon." She turned and jogged up the remaining stairs, turning to wave back at the two vampires before opening the door and going out into the chilly, morning air.

Astrid watched the door slide shut behind her and then stared pensively at it. These next two weeks were going to be long. The girl was hardly even gone and she missed her already.

"You love her, don't you?" Babette said surprised at the sudden realization that her friend was pining for Nessa already.

Astrid glared at Babette, her eyes narrowing. "Don't be stupid."

"You do. You totally do!" Babette cackled with glee. "Astrid loves Nessa!" she sang out at the top of her lungs.

Astrid lunged for Babette. "You little, unholy terror, I do not!"

The tiny vampire shrieked and skipped away, laughing hysterically. "Do too!"

_~o~o~o~_

Nessa took a room at the inn at Dawnstar. She arrived dressed in common clothes, her weapons tucked away in her bag. She had a story ready of how she was traveling to the mages' college to work in the kitchen and decided to stay in Dawnstar and look for work. It was too late in the day to scope out where Beitild lived and get ready, so she decided to rest.

"There's always work at one of the mines," the innkeeper told her. "It's nasty work though. I don't recommend it."

"Well… I might consider it. Perhaps I'll just poke around for a day or two and see what's available." Nessa ordered an ale and took a seat at the bar. "I'd like a hot bath and some food."

"Aye, lass. We've got a hearty shepherd's pie. There's snowberry pie if you want it too. I send Funny Tom to prepare your bath. That's an extra septim for the bath and another for the pies."

Nessa had the money, and to spare, but it would look suspicious if she weren't offended by the price. She sputtered and choked theatrically. "Twelves for a room, hot bath and pie? That's… robbery!" She sighed and cast a forlorn look at the innkeeper. "Come, sir… I'm a long way from home and my money isn't going to go far at these prices."

He cocked an eyebrow her way and shrugged. "A pretty girl like yourself, you take a bath and there's a dozen men that'll be in this inn tonight that'll give you a septim each if you're nice to them. Then you could say our hospitality was free."

She fought the urge to throw her mug of ale at him and storm out of the inn. She narrowed her eyes and tried to remember to play her role. "My mother didn't raise a whore." She dug through her pockets and produced the required payment. "I hope Funny Tom is funnier than you are."

The innkeeper flashed his broken teeth in a smile. "He ain't funny like that. He's tetched. Always mumbling about this and that. Never makes a damn bit of sense." He picked up Nessa's coins and stared at her chest. "I could see my way to give'n you a discount, lass. Just come to my room a bit later and I'll give you some of these coins back, eh?"

"You got your coin… just get me that bath and my pies. My bed better not have any gods damned bugs!" Nessa got up from the bar and went to sit at a table near the singer.

The innkeeper didn't dawdle too long and came with her pie. He stood over her a moment and tried to look down the neck of her dress. Nessa began to think about putting the inn to torch when she left town. Sadly, innocents would suffer for a few moments of sweet payback; nonetheless, the thought warmed her as much as the fireplace did.

She finished her ale and pies. Another slice of snowberry pie would definitely be welcome, and Astrid wanted her to put on some flesh, but if she were playing at being a poor traveler looking for work it would unseemly to spend more coin. She rose and stretched, then went to her room.

A young Imperial man was filling her tub while mumbling to himself. He paused a moment after dumping in a bucket of steaming water and looked at her. "Dragon, dragon burning bright. Try to hide in the night. Blood and gold. The dragons see the light and they come. They always come." His voice trailed off and Nessa couldn't hear exactly what he was saying. Did he know somehow that she was the one they were calling the dragon born? How could he know?

"You must be Tom." Nessa listened to him mumbled as he poured the next bucket.

Aye, Tom. Fetch water, Tom. Chop firewood, Tom. Funny Tom." His voice grew louder, then quieter, and he wouldn't make eye contact with her. "I know who I am but the dragon born is unborn. Until the dragons burn away the night, the blood, the gold. Then she'll know."

A shiver went down Nessa's spine. She scoffed at herself. The man's ranting had nothing to do with her. She wasn't the dragon born and even if she was, how could he know? Although a strange thing or two… the runes in the Sanctuary had pulled her to them. They had glowed eerily until she had reached out and touched them. They'd felt funny and flowed into her. She'd withdrawn her hand quickly thinking she might have broken some magical enchantment and Festus might yell at her. Ah! This was all just crazy. Probably every madman from here to Cryodiil was muttering about dragons.

Funny Tom finished filling her tub. She fumbled for her purse and gave him five septims. "Don't tell anyone I gave those to you, all right?"

Tom looked at his hand. "This is bloody gold." But, blood or no, he stuck the gold in his pocket. "'Ware this, bright lady: The ones you love will betray you because mother loves you best."

"My mother is dead, Tom." Nessa cocked her head and watched, wondering about his last comment. Could he know her mission? He spoke no more nonsense and left her room. She forgot him quickly. Her tub was full of steaming hot water and it drew her. She had avoided the hot spring in the Sanctuary, except at hours no one was likely to be there. To have privacy and a tub of hot water to herself was heaven. She undressed, bolted the door, and climbed in, luxuriating until the water cooled.

After her bath she hied herself to bed, with bugs – not too surprising – to nibble at her skin all night. She dreamed of Astrid and herself on the Reverend Mother's bed. When the dream seemed about to spiral to an erotic conclusion, the sound of metal striking rock woke her. She groaned in frustration and struck her pillow with her fist. "Gods damn! What happens next?" she asked the four walls. She yanked the blankets off her body and welcomed the abrupt chill; it helped to dampen the turmoil she felt in her body. Then she dressed in her plain garb and walked through town ostensibly looking for a job.

She spent the morning talking to many people. She learned more than she ever wanted to know about the private lives of the citizens of Dawnstar and even helped a few out with some tasks. In return they fed her and she didn't have to pay the usurious innkeeper or suffer him leering at her. During the course of the day she learned where Beitild's house was and with a little prompting even learned about her habits. It seemed the woman had a fondness for mead and often drank with her workers at the end of a day.

That gave Nessa an idea. When the sun began to set she ventured out to the smelter where the miners were gathered, drinking mead. In Nessa's pocket, there was a little paper folded around a powder that would guarantee a very deep sleep. It was something Babette taught her to make. She'd even had it used on her when the Dark Brotherhood had kidnapped her from the midst of the thieves' guild. She knew firsthand the sort of deep unconsciousness this could bring.

She made shy eye contact with one of the miners who stared at her as she walked by slowly and she was soon invited to join them. Beitild lived up to her reputation and hit the mead hard. Nessa, pretending to be drunker than she was, stumbled, knocking over the mine owner's mead.

"Oh! Ma'am, I am awfully sorry. Please, let me get you another one." Nessa apologized profusely and threw herself on the mercy of the cantankerous woman.

"Ha! You're a damn klutz girl. You damn well better get me another one, and come right back here and sit down next to me." She ran her eyes boldly over Nessa.

"Yes, ma'am," Nessa said, nodding at the grimy woman. _Oh great! She stinks, she's covered in black soot, and she's taken a fancy to me._ Gritting her teeth, she hurried off to fetch another bottle of mead for the woman. She paused momentarily to pour some of the powder into it. This powder would have her wanting to sleep very soon, and it would be the sleep of the dead.

She rejoined the miners and handed the mead to Beitild. "To your continued success!" Nessa clinked her own bottle against her target's doctored bottle.

Beitild eyed the pretty, young Nord. "Yesh… My sussess!" She smiled broadly at her and gulped down the mead. "Talos! That was good." She patted the wooden bench she sat on. "You girl, sit down and tell me your name. Why haven't I seen you before?"

Nessa smiled prettily and sat next to the mine boss. This was certainly going to be easy. "I just arrived in Dawnstar last night, ma'am."

"Ma'am… I like you girl, you have nice mannersh." She swayed closer to Nessa and fondled one of her braids. "But I don't know your name yet and I'd like to get to know you better. Mush…better." She put an arm around Nessa and drew her in closer.

"I'm…" Nessa stumbled for a moment, trying to think of a name. Why hadn't she come up with one beforehand? Her mind went completely blank. "La…nee…via," she stumbled over the syllables, trying to improvise.

"Lanivia? That's pretty. Never heard it before." She sighed and her eyes went closed for a moment and then popped open. "Lanivia…" Her head fell sideways onto Nessa's shoulder. "Talos's balls girl, I'm sleepy."

Trying not to cringe away, Nessa put her arm around Beitild's shoulders to keep her from falling over. "Would you like me to help you to bed, ma'am?"

Her eyes opened to slits and she leered at the girl next to her. "Yesh… take me to bed sweet, Lanivia." She seemed to summon a last bit of strength and sat up straight. "If any of you rock-heads see Leigelf, my lousy ex-husband, tell him I'm taking the prettiest girl in Skyrim to bed tonight!" She shouted the last and thumped the table angrily with her empty bottle of mead. Then she slumped over on Nessa.

"Oh dear," Nessa looked down at the unconscious woman. "Can someone help me get her into bed?"

The miners around her erupted into laughter. They joked with one another about Beitild being too drunk to take advantage of her good luck. The miner that had invited Nessa to join them volunteered to help her get the mine owner into bed. They carried her through the town to her house and Nessa rummaged through her pocket to find a key and they opened the house. Together they carried her to her bed and laid her on it.

The miner scratched the back of his neck and looked at her slyly. "I don't think she's going to wake, girl, if you were up for a bit of fun."

Nessa drew herself up and glared at the man. "I don't think your boss would like to hear you stole me from her, do you?"

"Oh, sorry miss. No… I better go." He practically ran for the door and pulled it closed after he left.

She latched the door after the man left and built up a fire.

_Why?_

Well, Beitild might be going to her afterlife soon, but Nessa didn't want her to be cold. It wouldn't do to kill her too soon. After the other villagers went to bed, that would be appropriate. That meant she had some time to… kill.

_Talos!_ Time went slowly, far too slowly. There was too much time to think. She was going to kill this woman. This would be the third person she had killed in cold blood. The first was Grelod, and then there was Khajiit prisoner in that abandoned shack. This was different. This time she was doing it for gold. Her mind drifted back to Riften. What would Brynjolf say if he knew? She felt ashamed of herself. He had obviously had high hopes for her. She hoped he thought she was dead. They wouldn't tell him, would they? She didn't want him to know. Maybe she should ask Astrid.

Thinking back to her brief time with the thieves made her sad. She missed the other thieves. Sweet Rune, handsome Thrynn, funny Vipir, even Vex and Sapphire – well, not much actually, they hadn't been all that friendly, although Sapphire seemed to be coming around. Mercer though… that man she did not miss. Something about him frightened her. Brynjolf should be running the guild. He was a natural leader and truly charismatic. Mercer had all the charm of rabid badger.

She stared at the fire and mused for quite some time. Every now and then she got up and peeked out the window to see if the lights were out. _Might as well see if there's anything of value to take with me._ She rooted around Beitild's house and took elves ears and garlic, useful alchemy ingredients. There was a hefty coin purse and she found a gold necklace, which she pocketed.

At last it seemed like all of Dawnstar had gone to bed but for a guard or two she could easily avoid. She sat next to Beitild on her bed. "I am sorry," she whispered to the unconscious woman. A tear slid down her face, not for the woman she was about to murder, but for herself. She bit her lip and drew her dagger. Remembering what Astrid had told her, she positioned herself so she wouldn't be splattered with arterial blood. She made the necessary cut and carefully cleaned her knife off on the dying woman's shirt. Sitting on the hearth she watched the blood puddle around the woman and soak into her bed.

_This is what I am now._

It was an irretrievable step taken. Her past was disappearing over the horizon. It was useless to look back with regrets. She got up and left the house quietly. It was simple to avoid the patrols and pick up her belongings from the inn without being seen. She went to the stable on the outskirts of town and picked the strongest looking horse. Speaking to him softly, she quietly led him to the road and mounted. Then they were off, pounding toward Falkreath.

Her blood pumped with adrenaline from stealing the horse, but none of her excitement was due to killing the woman. This was nothing like the stories the other assassins had told her. She could only imagine the disappointment on Astrid's face if she relayed her lack of enthusiasm for what she'd done. Disappointing Astrid was the thing she wanted to do least in this world. All the way back to Falkreath, she practiced the story she would tell her.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Nekomara, freshneverfrozen, Biff McLaughlin, Woopsiedoodle, Zevgirl thanks so very much for reviewing!_

_I dedicate this chapter to Two-buck Chuck who inspired me through his cheap, wet love. (Google that if you're curious)_

_For the non-Skyrim players: There's a frost spider in the assassin's sanctuary. I decided to name him Frosty. He's a big, ugly spider… just like in Dragon Age. I have to assume they milk him for venom. Erk! Who gets that job?_


	8. Chapter 8

Like a thief in the night, Nessa stole into Whiterun, but it did her little good; everyone knew her here.

"Good day, my thane."

"Thane Nyholm! You've been missed. Where have you been?"

"Welcome, Dragonborn. Have you slain any more dragons?"

"Have you thought about mercenary work?"

_Dammit! _Oh, she liked Whiterun well enough. She would live here if she had the coin to purchase a property, but their expectations of her were unreasonable, especially that Dragonborn nonsense the Jarl was spreading around. She couldn't even walk into the Bannered Mare without the damned bard singing that obnoxious song.

She politely excused herself from anyone trying to corner her for a real conversation. She had some shopping to do and then she needed to get back to Falkreath. Not wanting to be caught with a stolen horse, she sold it, only getting a fraction of its real value. The apothecary, Arcadia, looked happy to see her when she came in. Nessa was one of her best customers and was quickly mastering the trade.

"Any giant's toe, Arcady?" Nessa asked.

"Nessa, you walk in here like you haven't been away for three months, just to ask for giant's toe?" Arcadia shook her head. "Where have you been, child?"

"Here and there, Arcady. I wish I had more time to catch up, but I've got to get my tasks done and be back on the road," Nessa replied. She was getting adept at shutting down conversations she didn't want to have.

Arcadia smiled and pointed to a basket full of giant digits. "Quite a few, actually." She picked up the basket and brought it over to Nessa. "I had to stop selling them to Farkas. He kept buying them and putting them in the girl's beds." She laughed hard and wiped tears from her eyes with her apron. "You might think that's war paint he wears, but I'm pretty sure Aela gave him a permanent pair of shiners."

The story made her smile. "I'll take two then."

She walked out of the shop a short while later with a tidy package then stopped at the open air market and found someone selling marzipan and someone else selling maple candy. She wondered briefly what sort of treat Arnbjorn might like, but she couldn't imagine anything that wasn't dripping blood would appeal to him. Babette… perhaps she'd like candy? She certainly used that ruse to lure her targets to their deaths. She bought a gaily striped stick candy for her. For herself, she bought a few new ribbons: Blue, her favorite color. Her old ones were left behind at the thieves' guild. That thought made her feel melancholy for a few moments.

She wanted to be sure to get on the cart headed to Falkreath so she rushed out of town and nodded politely to people she knew on the way out. Just as she was about to duck out the front gate she recognized Maven Black-Briar coming from the other way. She gasped and turned suddenly to the gate guard so her back would be to Maven. "Well… so, how have you been? It's been a while since I've seen you."

The guard looked startled by the attention. "Why… fine, fine. Thank you for asking, Thane."

Maven drew nearer but she was busy expounding to someone, angrily smashing her fist against her open palm. "I can't believe that impudent oaf turned down my offer!"

Nessa shifted nervously and crowded closer to the guard. "Is your family well?" she asked.

"Um, Thane? My parents are dead and I'm a bachelor." There was a hopeful little gleam in his eye.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I'd forgotten. I'm sure you've told me before," she shifted nervously and watched Maven out of the corner of her eye.

"Perhaps," the guard whispered, "if you stand on this side of me, I can screen you better." He shifted so that he would be between her and Maven. "And… pretend to pick something up off the ground."

Nessa gratefully followed his instructions. Maven walked by and never gave them a second look. "I owe you a big favor," Nessa said, realizing she didn't even know the guard's name.

He looked into her serious-looking, wide blue eyes. "My name is Gunter, my thane. If I can ever be of service…"

Clasping his hand warmly, she said: "Thank you, Gunter. I will buy you an ale at the Bannered Mare on another day." She turned and left the hold. The cart driver was nearly ready to leave her behind and he scolded her for being late. His tongue stopped wagging when she paid him an extra five septims for the inconvenience.

~o~o~o~

"Silence, my brother."

The foreboding door rumbled open when she whispered the password. She stepped into the sanctuary and the door shut behind her, enveloping her in the cold, dank silence of the elaborate system of caves that comprised their hide-out. She followed the lit torches and descended the stairs to the great hall and then she could hear the hushed conversations punctuated, from time to time, by Babette's high laugh.

Just before rounding the corner she paused and took a deep breath. Now she was the blooded assassin returning home after a successful job, not a thane, and not the Dragonborn. This was yet another role to play. She wondered if she had lost herself in all these different roles. She stepped into the great hall and the conversations stopped as her fellow assassins – her brothers and sister in murder, truly now, she thought – turned to look at her.

"Welcome, sister," Veezara hissed.

"Nessa!" Babette shrilled. She launched herself at the tall Nord and hugged her.

Nessa looked down at the girl and squeezed her affectionately, but her eyes scanned the room looking for Astrid.

Babette, looking up at her, saw her lack of attention. "She's in her room. You should go see her right away."

Nessa smiled at Babette and mussed her hair. "I will, but first… I brought you something."

"Me?" The little vampire's smile was dazzling. "Hmmm… that's very thoughtful. What is it?"

Nessa unslung her pack and rummaged through it until she found the brightly striped candy stick. "Well, it sounded like you never actually make it to the candy shop. So I went for you. I hope you like it." She handed the candy to her.

Babette let out a peel of delighted laughter. "That's very thoughtful!" She unwrapped the sweet and sniffed it. "Oh, it's peppermint! My favorite, well, unless you manage to find blood flavored candy, in which case it is my second favorite."

Nessa continued digging through the pack and found the maple sugar candy that she had learned Veezara loved. "I found something for you too, brother." She handed the wrapped package to him.

The Argonian took the package into his reptilian hand and sniffed it, his tongue flicking out to sample the air. "Ah… it seems you found my one weakness. How did you know this about me?"

Nessa winked at him. "A little bird told me."

"Such information collecting is the hallmark of a masterful assassin, my sister. I think you will go far. My thanks." The lizard put the package into his pocket. "If you will excuse me, sisters." He made a polite bow to Nessa and Babette and headed up the stairs to his room.

Nessa went to her room and dropped off her bag. She made a quick trip to the grotto to wash up and found Nazir soaking himself in the hot spring. He looked up at her lazily. "Well, new girl, I see you aren't dead yet. Did you complete your assignment?"

"Of course," she said. "There was hardly anything challenging about it." She slipped into the water quickly, trying to avoid looking at the naked Redguard, not that she could see anything but the broad expanse of his well-developed chest that was above the water.

"No?" he said, shrugging. "Sometimes the challenges aren't in the execution but within the assassin." He reached down to the bottom of the pool and picked up a handful of sand and vigorously scrubbed his arms with it. "One can be assailed by doubt or guilt." He laughed and his rich, hearty voice boomed off the rock walls of the cavern. "One assassin turned the dagger on himself rather than complete his first assignment. That sort of failure is rare, Astrid is very good at picking recruits, but Astrid didn't pick you."

Nessa had been scrubbing herself and stopped suddenly and stared at Nazir. "What do you mean?" She was confused. Astrid had given her the choice of murdering one of the prisoners or dying. If Astrid hadn't chosen her, who had?

"Babette was the one, actually. She saw you murder the old lady. She saw something in you. Astrid must have seen it too, otherwise…" he let the word hang in the air for a moment, "Well, let's just say you wouldn't be here. I suspect you'd still be in that damp shack missing a few quarts of blood."

Despite the muggy heat of the grotto, Nessa shivered. She forgot, most of the time, that Astrid and Babette were vampires.

Nazir enjoyed watching her reaction. He was still convinced that this one had been a mistake. She was timid, too skinny, and only fair with a blade. Granted her abilities with a bow were amazing, but that wouldn't be enough. She was pretty, if you like them skinny; Nazir didn't. There had been assassins, who had used their seductive skills to kill, but this one was too timid. She had no blood-lust, unless she hid it very well.

Nessa found the bar of soap; it was usually kept in a hollowed out niche within reach of the pool. Today it was scented with Dragon's Breath, a rare, imported fragrance. Babette and Gabrielle were always concocting new scents and infusing them into soaps or perfumes. She washed her hair with the bar of soap and rinsed it out. She hurried her bath, both wanting to escape the ever depressing Nazir and not wanting to keep Astrid waiting, but she wanted to be clean. Traveling left one feeling a bit grubby.

She finished her bathing and bid Nazir goodbye, climbing out of the pool and feeling self-conscious about her nakedness. Somehow she doubted Nazir cared on whit whether she was clothed or not. He seemed distinctly uninterested in her. It didn't bother her too much, except he always expected the worst from her.

She changed into clean clothes, a new dress she bought while she was in a town. The blue in the dress was the same color as her eyes, the shopkeeper had said. She wove her new blue ribbon into her braid. Arnbjorn would certainly complain about all the blue if he saw her, but he would certainly find something to complain about anyway. She was pinching her cheeks and putting the last stray hairs into place when there was a rap at her door.

"Come in," she said, turning away from the tiny mirror in her room.

"Nessa!" Astrid strode into her room and shut the door behind her. "Babette said you were here." Her face warmed at the sight of the young Nord. "I should scold you for not coming to me directly but…" she sniffed the air, "you must have bathed and changed. I recognize the scent."

"I had a lot of dirt from the road and it has been unseasonably warm. I thought it might be best if I smelled a little better," Nessa explained.

"Of course! That's very thoughtful." She went to her young protégé and took her by the hand, leading her to the bed. "Have a seat, Nessa. Tell me all about your first assignment." She smiled and inhaled deeply, her eyes looked far away. "I remember my first contract, it was terribly exciting. It was before I was… turned. I had to murder a court magician." She laughed at the memory and became animated. "I made a mess of it. I got blood everywhere, all over myself. I might have been a bit too enthusiastic, but it was terribly exciting watching the life leave his eyes. He tried to cast a spell at me, but it was too late for that." She laughed again. "You should have seen me sneak away, covered in blood. Then a guard saw me and gave chase. Before I got away, I think I had six guards after me." Her eyes glittered as she recounted the story. "It was very exciting."

She laughed again and sat on the bed, next to Nessa. "Listen to me run on. I wanted to hear about you. How did your assignment go?"

There was so little to tell, Nessa felt almost foolish. She thought she should have an exciting and adventurous story like Astrid's. "It went well, actually. The woman drank some mead I had put a sleeping draught into. I helped her get to her bed and then when it seemed like everyone had retired for the night, I… I did it. Then I stole a horse and left town quickly."

Astrid picked up the girl's hand and watched her face closely. "Details, Nessa! I want details. What did it feel like? Was it exciting?"

Nessa was cornered now. Truthfully, she felt little. She was a bit sad for her victim, but not too much. "Oh yes, it was very exciting. I remembered what you said about being careful when you cut someone's throat. I doubt she felt anything. She was pretty sound asleep."

Astrid was puzzled for a moment. Nessa wasn't telling her everything and what she had said felt like a lie. "You don't ever need to lie to impress me, dear one."

Caught in her untruth, she thought to deny it at first. How could Astrid know how she felt? Instead she decided to reveal her true feelings, but she worried Astrid would be critical. "I… no, I guess I didn't feel excitement." She stared at her hands. "Truthfully, I didn't feel much of anything. Well, stealing the horse was exciting, but murdering the woman was…" She sighed. "I felt nothing like you say you did. I'm sorry."

Reaching out, the vampire took the end of Nessa's braid in her hand and played with it. "My poor, sweet girl. You thought I expected you to experience everything I did?" She sighed and looked into Nessa's eyes. They seemed especially blue tonight. "It's my fault, I suppose. Sometimes I forget we're two very different people." She smiled sadly at the girl. "You're entitled to all your own feelings, my sweet." She leaned in closer to Nessa and put her fingers under her chin and brought the girl's face closer to hers. "Now, let's start over. Tell me everything exactly as it happened this time."

A flood of relief swept over Nessa as she realized that Astrid would let her be herself. Of all the people she'd known since her parents had died everyone seemed to want her to be someone else. She shut her eyes and relaxed into Astrid's touch. She had a powerful impulse to kiss the older woman. She opened her eyes again and watched her mentor's face closely as she drew a little closer. Astrid's eyes seemed to smile encouragement so she tilted her head slightly and ever so slowly closed the distance.

It was a very gentle kiss at first, but then Astrid's lips parted under hers as she responded to the cautious kiss. The older woman's hands reached up to Nessa's cheeks and pulled her even closer. Then Astrid opened her mouth and her tongue delicately caressed her lips. Never had Nessa been kissed like this. She let her mouth open and Astrid's searching tongue found her own and stroked it, twirling around it sensuously. She made a soft moaning, deep in her throat, and Astrid pulled away from her suddenly.

"My sweet, sweet Nessa." She picked up the girl's hand and brought it to her lips. "I've wanted to do that for so long." She heaved a heavy sigh. "But right now, I want to hear your story." She laughed a deep, throaty laugh. "Or were you trying to distract me?"

Nessa shook her head vigorously. "Oh no! I just… I was relieved that you weren't angry with me and… I… I…" She broke off when she started to stutter and flailed her hands helplessly, trying to pick the right words out of the air. "I wanted to."

Artless, guileless, without any sophistication at all, this was Nessa's great charm, Astrid realized. The girl didn't know how powerful an aphrodisiac her naiveté was. She wielded her honesty and shyness as skillfully as a courtesan could brandish her highly trained sensuality. This was a girl any debauched courtier would love to seduce, convinced he was the first. She was also the girl a man would fall madly in love with or, if he were married, she would reminded him of his wife while they were courting. This quality of hers, however fleeting, would make her a formidable assassin she realized. She also saw that it was a limited resource. Drawing upon this quality as an artifice would cause it to fade. Still, Astrid was enough of a guild leader to make use of all the tools at her disposal, no matter how badly she wanted to keep one for herself.

"I spent my first day pretending to look for a job, but gathering whatever information I could about the woman. I found out she liked to spend her evenings drinking by the smelter with her workers. They invited me to join them. I pretended to be a little drunk and I knocked over her drink."

Astrid laughed and squeezed her hand. "Oh, that's very good."

Nessa smiled at the praise. "So I begged her pardon and asked her if she'd allow me to get her another. She took my offer. I guess she liked my manners, so she had me sit next to her. She was getting pretty drunk so the sleeping draught I put in the drink just made it speed up a bit. She asked me to go back to her house with her." She looked at Astrid shyly, unwilling to admit it but felt compelled. "I think she fancied me a little."

"You little minx!" Astrid laughed even harder. "Did you flirt with her?"

Nessa shook her head. "No. I was just polite and she liked my manners." She wrinkled her nose at the memory. "She was dirty and didn't smell good."

"Of course she liked your manners. You have a natural talent, Nessa. You need to learn to use it to your advantage. What happened then?"

"Just before she passed out she announced to everyone there she was taking me to bed and they should be certain to tell her ex-husband." Nessa chuckled at the memory. "Then a miner helped me carry her home. He tried to get me into bed, but I reminded him his boss might not like that."

Astrid shook her head. "Silly man."

Nessa nodded. "You'd think these miners might clean themselves up before they asked someone to their bed. Ugh!"

"What happened after the miner left?" Astrid prompted her.

"I built up a fire in the fireplace so she…" Nessa felt silly confessing this, "I didn't want her to be cold."

"Your heart is soft, Nessa," Astrid said. "That's not a bad thing, but you must be careful. What did you do next?"

"I had a long wait, until I knew everyone was in bed. I searched the house and took a few valuables, and some alchemy ingredients I needed. Then I sat by the fire and thought."

"About what?" Astrid prompted her.

"About the thieves in Riften. I wonder what they're doing sometimes. Do they think I'm dead?" She blurted out the last without really thinking.

Astrid nodded. "Probably. Do you want them to know you're not?"

Pain flitted across Nessa's eyes. "No. It's probably best they think I'm dead. This is what I am now."

There was something in Riften that Nessa regretted, Astrid could see that. They had stolen her right out of the thieves' guild; perhaps she had been happy there. Maybe she had been sweet on someone. The thought made her a little jealous. She was glad Nessa hadn't asked to contact them. It would have complicated things. Given a little time, she would forget about them. She would make her forget.

"Then I killed the woman while she slept peacefully. I cut open her neck artery and she bled quickly. I sneaked to the inn, got my stuff, went to stable, stole a horse and left." She looked thoughtfully at Astrid a moment. "Stealing the horse was a lot of fun."

Astrid pulled Nessa so her head was resting on her shoulder. "Thank you for telling me everything. I want to know you better." She kissed Nessa on her forehead. "Every assassin has their own way. I think I understand your strengths now. The way you are. Your sweet, shyness draws people to you and you're not even aware of it. You can use that to your advantage." She smoothed her hand over the girl's hair. "You're a little like Babette in that way. Her targets trust her because she's a lost little girl. They'll trust you because they see something so very rare that they want to possess, or corrupt. Right now, my sweet, it is real, but someday it won't be. Life has a way of stripping us of our innocence."

Nessa nodded, her brow furrowed. She never thought of her shyness as a strength. She hated how self-conscious she felt and how she tended to stutter when she needed to say something important. "I think," she said haltingly, "right now there are things I want to be less innocent about."

Astrid rested her cheek against Nessa's head. The girl couldn't see her smile. "There are many things I can teach you, Nessa, and I will, but before I do remember who you are today. The shy, stumbling girl who only knows she wants, but can't name what she wants. That girl is going to be gone…"

"Good!" Nessa said with vehemence. Astrid's low laugh caressed her ear.

"Yes, but that girl has a very special charm and gift. If you can master becoming that girl at will, you will be a formidable assassin… or anything you wish to be." She squeezed Nessa's waist with her arm. "Do you understand?"

"I suppose, although I don't really see how anyone would find my stumbling for words attractive." Astrid wasn't making a whole lot of sense. Nessa would so much rather possess the vampire's smooth way with people and words.

"Just trust me on this," Astrid insisted.

Nessa turned her head and looked up at her. "I… I do trust you, Astrid."

Those words felt like an arrow piercing her heart. Perhaps this relationship had started out as a lark, an amusement Babette had cooked up, but the worm had turned. She was ensnared by Nessa's ingenuous nature. "I promise, Nessa, whatever may happen in our lives, I'll never give you reason to doubt me." She caught Nessa's mouth with her own and kissed her thoroughly.

Nessa's breath caught as Astrid's tongue sought out hers again. It felt like this moment had been hovering between them for an eternity and now it had finally arrived. Astrid pressed closer to her and they fell back to her bed, still kissing. Astrid shifted them so Nessa was on her back and she hovered over her.

"Are you sure you want this, Nessa?" she asks, dragging her fingers across the girls face.

"Gods, yes," she replies. "I don't know… anything."

"I know. That's why you just need to relax, close your eyes and let me show you, my sweet." She turned the girl's head and kissed a line down her neck. The sigh coming from the girl told her everything she needed to know. Her fingers went to the buttons down the front of Nessa's dress and deftly unbuttoned them, pulling open the garment as she went. She kissed, sucked and licked every inch of skin that came into view.

Nessa couldn't help the soft moans and whimpers she made. Every sensation was new to her, yet known, as if some primal secret that had been held within her was being unlocked. "Oh Gods!" she whispered as Astrid's mouth gently teased one nipple and her hand the other. Tiny lightning bolts seemed to course through her body all of them aimed at her loins.

"You are beautiful, Nessa," Astrid murmured as she unbuttoned the last button and pulled Nessa's dress off. The girl lay before her, sinewy strength and graceful lines. She didn't have much of a bosom, but Astrid remembered being just the same at her age. Her hands ran over Nessa's body eliciting shivers and quiet gasps. It was almost as if the girl had never been touched. One moment her eyes would close in ecstasy, the next they'd open wide and watch Astrid closely.

Leaning over her and kissing her, Astrid whispered to her. "Have you done this before, my darling?"

Nessa shook her head then nodded. "With a man once, but not like this. It was nothing like this."

Humming in her throat, Astrid shook her head. "Not so good, hmmm? Over a little quickly and a bit painful?"

"Yes, exactly. It was just that once. A soldier. He promised me the heavenly pleasures of Dibella and the tenderness of Mara."

Astrid chuckled. "And delivered neither, I'll warrant."

Nessa shook her head.

"So you've never experienced the pleasure your body can give you?" She trailed a finger from Nessa's breast, down to her leg, delighting in the way Nessa's eyes dilated as her hand skimmed her thigh.

"No. Gods… not like this," Nessa said, her voice barely a whisper.

She would be the first in all the ways that mattered, Astrid thought. Her hands teased over the young woman's sensitive flesh and she watched her respond. This touch brought the blood to heighten the flush on her chest. Using her tongue on that spot made the girl's heart beat a little quicker. Her fragrant blood was pooling here and coursing there. It drew Astrid like a magnet. How tantalizing to lick a sensitive place and feel the flesh engorging with the ambrosia of life. How delectable it would be to drink of this untainted innocence.

Once or twice she found her sharp incisors poised above a plump vein and it was only with practiced discipline that she refused the temptation. A century had taught Astrid control, but it had taken losing two husbands and many lovers to her vampirism before she could trust herself. The only person she could truly lose herself with was Arnbjorn. He was strong enough to let her drink and push her away when she had taken enough. To give into the temptation this girl presented would certainly kill her, if not tonight then on some other occasion. It was satisfaction enough to feel the girl grow restless beneath her. The way her slender hips danced, searching for the release that had eluded her so far in her young life, was quite rewarding.

"Gods, oh Gods," Nessa began to chant. Her hands flailed for something to anchor herself and found Astrid's soft hair. Her fingers buried into her flaxen tresses as if she were teetering on the edge of a cliff. She was being driven closer and closer and her chanting grew louder and sounded less like words. Then just as she thought for certain she would fall and shatter into a thousand pieces, Astrid stopped. Her moan ended on a querulous note as the edge of the cliff receded.

"Patience, sweetling," Astrid said, lightly stroking her and keeping her balanced on the edge of eternity. One of the advantages of being a vampire was being so in tune with the ebb and flow of her prey's body. Not that Nessa was prey, per se. "Soon," she promised the girl, stroking her slender thighs.

Nessa thought she might die. "Astrid, please!" she whispered to the older woman. She squirmed wildly.

Astrid could sense her frustration rising and slowly resumed. The tension built quickly in the girl and soon she was clawing at the furs on the bed and arching her back. Her gasping breaths were punctuated by soft exclamations. This was it, the right time to shatter this girl and chip away a fragment of her innocence. With her touch, she possessed this girl in a way she'd never been before.

Nessa arched, like a bow, her mouth working soundlessly as her body was rocked with waves of ecstasy. She could hear Astrid's pleased hum, but she kept up her touches and the skillful working of her tongue as she was jolted again and again by shockwaves of pleasure. Finally it ended and she was left trembling and breathless. "By Mara's light, Astrid… I had no idea," she confessed.

Astrid collapsed next to Nessa on the bed and smiled at her. "I know, sweetling, but there's an awful lot more." She traced a figure eight between the girl's breasts with her damp finger. "I know you're exhausted after your travels and… this." She smiled at the girl, enjoying how flushed the girl's cheeks were. "So take a nice nap and have dinner. Then come to my room tonight.

"But… your husband?" Nessa said, her brows drawing together with worry.

"He's away. He won't be back for some time," Astrid said. She noted the concern on Nessa's face. "He knows, sweetling."

Nessa nodded. She knew that Arnbjorn knew… _By the nine, it was all too confusing! _

"You're mine, Nessa," Astrid said, staring intently at her.

Nessa nodded knowing it was true. Her worries about Arnbjorn faded away when her magical voice stroked her ears, just like her magical fingers had stroked her body. Astrid smiled at her again and kissed her softly then she got up and left Nessa alone. In the few moments before sleep could claim her she imagined herself with Astrid forever.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Phew! Life got a bit hectic there for a bit. I missed writing!_

_My first ever attempt at slash. I went for erotica rather than something more explicit. Truthfully, I think I prefer writing that rather than something more hardcore. I am looking forward to actually getting down to my plot bunnies. I can has plot bunnies!_

_Thank you Zevgirl and Biff for your feedback when I post my snippets on Google+ and for being such awesome friends!_

_Thank you my readers and special thanks to: CJ Robbins , Raven Hunter, Myrielle, Found-In-Reverie, x_Janelle_x, A Drunk Canadian, whoopsiedoodle, TheOtherLachance, Biff McLaughlin and Zevgirl for reviewing!_

_If you're into Dragon Age at all I posted a one-shot satire called "Tea with Bethany" about Hawke and her sister having tea in high society._


	9. Chapter 9

_This chapter is dedicated to binge-eaters… and all the ice cream I have regretted over-indulging myself on. Please read and review. _

**_Sanctuary_**

It was easy to forget Astrid was married while Arnbjorn was away on guild business. In front of the others, she was entirely the guild leader, showing no preference to any of the assassins, but there were many moments when Astrid would seemingly disappear into the shadows and wait for Nessa to walk by. She'd leap out of the shadows and wrap a hand over Nessa's mouth to stifle her startled yelp and drag her into a shadowed alcove to kiss her.

"You see?" whispered Astrid. "This is the meat and potatoes, as it were, of an assassin: Surprise and speed." She kissed Nessa's ear and trailed her tongue down her neck, still holding her hand over the girl's mouth as she quietly moaned into Astrid's hand. Her voice low and velvety she hummed into Nessa's ear. "And sometimes… seduction." Then she told Nessa exactly what they would be doing in her bed that night. That would be followed up by a long, scalding kiss and Astrid would let her go.

Yes, it was easy to forget Astrid was married.

Nessa's days were spent training with Veezara. He had taken a keen interest in her, especially since she'd brought him the maple candy from Whiterun. He was lightning fast with his blades. He drilled Nessa in hand-to-hand combat and sparred with her. He was as patient as he was polite. His skill was so immense that he could stop his blade just a hair away from touching her and, when he made her lose her balance and fall, he would always make sure she landed gently, if he could. As a result, Nessa had relatively few bruises. They always sparred with blunted weapons, of course, but they could leave nasty bruises or sometimes worse.

Gabrielle was most helpful, too. She was never too busy to attend to Nessa's bruises and pulled muscles. She had a very good grasp of healing magic, something Festus, the other mage, thought was a complete waste of time. She even taught Nessa a very rudimentary healing spell, although Nessa had very little aptitude for magic.

Despite all the training, Nessa's body would be yearning for Astrid's touch. The path Astrid's tongue had traveled down her neck seemed to tingle all day long. She was tempted to escape to her room and try to find relief from her state of arousal for herself, but that seemed like cheating.

Then the evenings were spent on Astrid's bed, and layer by layer, Nessa's shy innocence was peeled away. It seemed there were as many ways to bring pleasure to someone as there are stars in the sky. Astrid would demonstrate and then Nessa would try it on Astrid. She learned many, many intimate things about the guild leader and sometimes before they fell asleep in each other's arms she would tell Nessa stories about her past.

One night Nessa worked up the nerve to ask about her past. "How did you become…" Nessa hesitated to say it, because at some level she didn't like to think about it, "a… vampire?"

Astrid grew very quiet and reflective. Nessa worried that she might have offended her lover. "I'm sorry," she added quickly. "It's none of my business. I should not have asked."

Astrid shook her head and turned to look at the girl. "It's all right. What's done is done and there's no going back." She stroked Nessa's hair and stared into her blue eyes. "I was growing older and my closest friend, Babette, wasn't. She knew that one day I wouldn't be able to keep up and eventually I'd be gone while she went on and on forever. Every year on my birthday she offered to infect me but I always refused."

Nessa's brow furrowed with sympathy as she listened.

"When I turned thirty she took me to a mirror and showed me the wrinkles at the sides of my eyes when I smile. She threw a massive tantrum." She chuckled, her silver eyes looking absent with the memory. "You can't believe what sort of a tantrum a 300-year-old ten-year-old can throw. I kept going out of my way to look at my aging face and wonder what I'd see in another decade or two. Eventually my vanity won me over to her way of thinking." She snorted and her eyes refocused on Nessa.

"I think those lines are beautiful," Nessa said innocently. "It makes my heart sing when I see them. I know it means you're happy."

That remark brought the lines under discussion into view and Astrid kissed the girl until they both forgot about the topic.

~o~o~o~

Another glorious night, like the dozen that had preceded this one and Nessa and Astrid were becoming adventurous in their lovemaking.

"It's your turn, Nessa. You come up with a story and we'll act it out," Astrid said, smiling in anticipation. Nessa's imagination was quite good and she enjoyed the role-playing.

Nessa looked down at her feet shyly. "I liked the lazy maid and the Jarl. I could be the Jarl this time."

Astrid shook her head. "Come on, girl. Use that imagination of yours. Think of something new!"

Biting her lip, Nessa thought hard for a few moments and then a shy smile broke over her face. "Well… How about you're the evil vampire who has captured a maiden to ravage her and drink her blood?"

Astrid's laughed roundly at that. "I _am_ the evil vampire. That's not even make-believe."

Nessa shook her head. "You are _not_ evil. Oh, come on, Astrid! It'll be fun."

It was hitting a little close to home. There were times when the desire drink from Nessa was strong. Still, she had no doubt she could control herself. "All right," she agreed.

Suddenly Astrid disappeared. Nessa swung around looking for her. _How can she just… disappear?_ Then she felt Astrid's strong hands on her and then she reappeared behind her. It was the first time that Nessa had seen her use her vampiric talents. A shiver of fear and delicious anticipation went through her as Astrid pushed her to the bed and pinned her there. She could have struggled harder and won free… maybe, but that would have spoiled the game.

Astrid tied her firmly to the bed, hissing threats at her the entire time. "I'm going to make you scream for mercy, Nord girl. Only you won't be able to scream." She tied a cloth over Nessa's mouth. "Then you'll be my blood-doll. My thrall." She dragged a sharp fingernail along the artery in Nessa's neck.

Nessa looked at Astrid in mock terror. The shivers of anticipation, however, were not mock. There was something in Astrid's eyes she'd never seen before, a hypnotic intensity. It seemed that the evening's theme was resonating with her. She'd never had reason to distrust Astrid, the woman had always been unfailingly gentle, except where a bit of roughness might yield exceptional pleasure. Astrid never fed on anyone at the Sanctuary, other than Arnbjorn. As far as Nessa knew, feeding was something performed perfunctorily, without any particular relish or pleasure, in nearby Falkreath if Arnbjorn wasn't around.

"I will drain you to within an inch of death," she said while unbuttoning Nessa's dress. "You'll beg me to do it, again and again." Her sharp fingernail left a red welt down the center of Nessa's throat and then her finger cruelly pinched a nipple. "One day, I may drink too deeply." Astrid nearly quit the game at that moment because what she had said was too near the truth. Nessa was already becoming pliant. Her slender body yielding and ready for whatever Astrid wanted to do. Her senses were swimming with the knowledge that under that pale, slim column of a neck there was a rich, warm river of life.

She undressed herself and crawled on top of Nessa, rubbing sensuously against her and sucking the tender points that made the girl writhe under her. Her cries behind the gag were sounding like pleas and she could feel the girl's heart beating faster. She licked the length of the artery that ran up her neck, to the point where it disappeared under her jaw, then scrapped her sharp incisors against it. Her hips rubbed against Nessa's and she found a rhythm and position that hastened the girl's pulse even as it did her own.

Rising up on her arms, she increased the contact between them by wending her leg through Nessa's. She quickened the pace again, and Nessa's breath seethed out her nose, her eyes squeezed shut, and a sheen of perspiration formed on her forehead. _So fragile, so helpless… _Under the girl's warm skin, capillaries dilated bringing a rich, rosy hue to her cheeks and chest. Her heart beat hard, pumping life through her tender veins, veins that were as innocent and unknown as the girl herself had been. The smell of her body, her arousal, the iron tang of blood that she could almost…_almost… _taste… T_oo much_, too proffered to resist.

Astrid's careful iron control shattered as she did. With a guttural moan she threw herself onto the girl's neck and pierced her artery with her sharp incisors. She didn't even have the wherewithal to question what she was doing, so instinctual was the act. Sweet, hot blood flowed into her. It increased the intensity of her bliss a hundred times over.

Nessa's eyes flew open at the pain of the bite but after a sharp pinch it stopped being painful. Just as suddenly her body was flooded with intense pleasure. Her hips jerked against Astrid's and a thin, high wail came from behind the cloth binding her mouth. As Astrid sucked at her neck, as her heart delivered her life's blood to the vampire, it wracked her with ecstasy she'd never known before.

The women were locked together in an ancient knot of pleasure and the exchange of life. Astrid was lost, well beyond reason, and Nessa was bound and helpless. Even if she were free, she would be powerless against this seemingly endless pleasure.

The door to the room opened suddenly and Arnbjorn dropped his bag and weapon as he took in the scene in front of him: His wife, nude, on top of Nessa, also nude and bound and gagged. Astrid's lips were clamped to Nessa's neck. Astrid shifted her eyes up to look at Arnbjorn and only took her mouth away from the girl's neck to hiss at him. There was no recognition in her eyes. She was like a sabre cat crouching over her prey.

_What in the name of all the gods is she doing? She's going to kill her. _A few weeks ago, he wouldn't have stopped her, but he knew his wife liked the girl and… truth be told, so did he. Feeding and sex was a dangerous combination for Astrid, or rather her lovers. Arnbjorn strode over to the women and pulled Astrid off the Nord girl. "Astrid!" he shouted, trying to contact the human woman he knew and loved. "Astrid, stop this!"

His words and touch pierced the delirium that the feeding had sparked in her. Her eyes focused on his face and she came back to herself. "Arn?" She looked confused for a moment then her attention locked onto Nessa. She looked far too pale and was barely stirring. "Nessa!" She ran over to the bed and grabbed her hands and chaffed them. "Nessa… sweetling, please… are you all right? Please be all right!" Tears spilled down her cheeks and dripped on the girl's face. She hurriedly untied her bonds and the gag around her mouth.

Nessa's heart beat slowly and her chest rose and fell with shallow, slow breaths but her eyes opened a crack and she saw Astrid's concerned face. "Gods…" she whispered, "…don't stop. Please, don't stop."

_I've enslaved her. _Astrid pulled away from her and turned to her husband. "Arn… I didn't mean to. It just got out of hand. She was so helpless there… so perfect." She buried her face in his chest and sobbed. "I almost killed her. How could that happen again? It hasn't happened in decades."

Arnbjorn stroked his wife's hair and looked at the girl on his bed. His wife was distraught over nearly killing this girl. Nessa had become something more than a plaything to her. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but surely now this would be the end of it. If Astrid had a lick of sense she'd put an end to this now. And if she didn't... he would be here to remind her of how futile this affair was. "Shush, my love," he said, soothing her. "She'll live. Gabrielle and Babette will have her fixed up in no time. Best you get dressed. I'll take the girl to her room."

Astrid collected herself and wiped away her tears. She leaned over her bed with Nessa in it. "Gods, my sweet, I am so sorry." She kissed the girl on her forehead and began to collect her clothes, her hands shaking… with fear, yes, but with hunger too. The blood she'd tasted called to her now.

Arnbjorn wrapped the girl in one of the furs on their bed, covering her nakedness. She hung limply in his arm, all but drained of blood. He carried her out of his room and to her own room, passing through the great hall on the way. All of the assassins stopped whatever they were doing to see who Arnbjorn was carrying.

"Babette and Gabrielle, with me, everyone else… attend to your own business," he snapped gruffly. Most of the assassins turned away, but Veezara looked on with concern although he didn't follow.

He lay her down on her bed and covered her with the fur when they reached her room. "She's lost a lot of blood." He turned her head to the side and showed them the bloody wounds on her neck. "She's going to need the cure, Babette."

Babette looked inordinately pleased. _Ha! I knew this one would liven this place up. _"Are you sure Astrid wants her cured? Maybe Nessa would like to turn." Babette knew well that the girl was now infected with Sanguinare Vampiris, the disease that makes vampires. _Having Nessa as a new vampire, that would be fun. I could show her how to sneak up on sleepers and bite them, never waking them. _

Gabrielle went to the bedside and began to heal Nessa with restoration magic. There was little wrong with her though other than the wounds on the side of her neck and the blood loss.

Arnbjorn turned abruptly and towered over the tiny vampire girl. "You _will_ give her the cure," he growled.

"Maybe so," Babette said pertly and turned to leave the room and the bossy werewolf.

Arnbjorn's hand reached out and snatched her shoulder, halting her exit. "Don't defy me, Babette," he warned.

Babette turned her head and cast a quick smile at him. "You never let me have any fun at all!" She stuck her tongue out at him and skipped off down the hallway, her shrill laughter floating back to him.

Arnbjorn took a deep breath, letting his anger dissipate. He turned to Gabrielle. "What can you do for her?"

She shrugged and pointed to her neck where the bites were already healed. "I've already done it. I can only help her a little with the blood loss. It'll simply take time for her body to make new blood." She smirked at Arnbjorn. "As you well know." Arnbjorn was often down a few pints of blood. Astrid's penchant for drinking from him was a poorly kept secret. Now it seemed she was getting a little more… variety.

"Is she…" Arnbjorn looked at the girl with concern.

Gabrielle nodded. "She's going to be fine." She got up. "I'm going to let her rest. I'll be back in a while to check on her." She left the room and Arnbjorn.

He sat down heavily at the side of the girl's bed. She still smelled strongly of arousal and a little bit of blood. He cursed his werewolf senses for revealing so much. His body responded to both scents and the memory of his wife and Nessa naked together. He rubbed his hands over his face trying to erase the image he knew would be haunting him. He growled with frustration and pulled the fur off the girl. It was their fur; they'd need it on their bed.

Nessa stirred and her eyes cracked open. "Arn… bjorn," she said, her voice a bare whisper. "Where's Astrid?" She tried to push herself out of bed but collapsed.

"Lamb shank, you're not going anywhere. You're lucky to be alive." He lifted her and pulled back the covers on her bed and replaced her in it. His hands skimmed along her warm skin as he settled her into bed. He had nearly forgotten how warm a woman could be, Astrid was always cool to the touch. _Her scent…_ It stirred him in ways he'd forgotten. Astrid was virtually scentless, as vampires were. "You need to stop this, morsel, even if she won't. She'll kill you with her love. You've seen it… you're not strong enough."

Nessa shook her head weakly. "No," she whispered. "Can't."

He shook his head and looked at the girl with pity. "This will wear off in a few days. She's enthralled you. I'm going to make certain you don't leave your room. We'll have your food sent up."

She looked up at him, her expression devastated. "No… please."

He'd never seen a thrall before, but Astrid had told him about them. Why it hadn't happened to him, he didn't know. Something in his werewolf blood must protect him. He couldn't contract the vampire disease either. The stories he'd heard, both from Babette and Astrid, of humans enslaved to serve their vampire masters… through the exact sort of coupling he'd seen between his wife and this girl. Astrid was like one of those wealthy Nord matrons who could devour a whole box of sweets in an evening. She just couldn't say no to such a temptation laid before her.

He squeezed the girl's hand and noted how cool it felt now. The loss of blood would make her chilly. He looked at the fur he'd taken from his own bed. They could do without it tonight. He spread it over the girl. "Sleep, morsel. You'll feel better tomorrow."

He got up and left her room and sought out Nazir. "I need a round the clock guard on Nessa's room. She needs to be confined to her room for a few days."

Nazir looked at Arnbjorn with a curious expression. "Oh?"

"Just… do it. I'll take it as a personal favor if you don't ask too many questions. Make sure she gets plenty of food, water, whatever she needs, she just isn't to leave."

Nazir nodded. "All right. Consider it done." This was just more proof that bringing this new girl here had been a mistake as far as Nazir was concerned. He was very curious what she'd done. Was this punishment? He figured he'd find out sooner or later. You couldn't keep a secret here.

Babette and Veezara walked up while the two men talked.

"I'll take the first watch," Veezara volunteered.

Nazir nodded. "That's fine. Someone will relieve you in the morning."

Babette handed a vial to Veezara. "See she drinks that, would you? It'll help her sleep." She turned and glared at Arnbjorn. "And it'll cure her Sanguinare Vampiris and help her make more blood."

Arnbjorn rubbed his forehead, irritated at Babette. _So much for keeping it secret. _"Thank you, Babette." He nodded to his fellow assassins and went back to his room. Now he had to deal with the other half of this mess. He opened the door to find his wife packing a bag. "Astrid, where are you going?"

She looked up at him and he noticed her hands were still shaking. "Her blood calls to me. I need to leave for a while or…"

"You'll kill her?" he finished the sentence for her.

She nodded. "I can't stop myself. Why did I even think I could? After all this time, I should know better." She threw a pair of leggings into the bag. "It was that stupid game we were playing. I should have listened to my instincts."

Her face was an emotionless mask but Arnbjorn knew the frustration that lurked behind it. He crossed the room to her and wrapped his arms around her. "Drink from me, love. Forget that girl." He kissed her gently on the forehead.

He felt her shake her head. "It's not that, Arn. I love you with all my heart, my sweet wolf, I always will. Perhaps I'm just infatuated with her and this will pass. I don't think I can trust myself right now. I have to leave for a little while." She detached herself from her husband and resumed packing. "There are a few contracts I can fulfill."

He watched her pack for a few moments. He'd missed her while he had been away, now she was leaving. "I'll go with you, love."

"No. Stay here and run things. Don't let Nessa come after me." She laced up her bag and turned to Arnbjorn. "It'll just be a few days, a week at most."

Astrid kissed him. When she pulled away he finally saw sadness in her eyes. "Tell her… Tell her, I'm sorry." She slung the bag over her shoulder and left.

~o~o~o~

Veezara slept inside Nessa's room, every night for three nights, preventing her from leaving. She begged, cried, and even tried to fight him once, although he could easily duck her fists. She was like a skooma addict going through withdrawals. Eventually, he learned the true nature of her illness; she'd been enthralled by a vampire. No one knew exactly who it was, but it was very suspicious that Astrid left at the same time.

On the morning of the fourth day it seemed that Nessa was more herself again, if sad and withdrawn. Veezara, who was quite fond of the Nord girl, brought her a bouquet of flowers he picked, all of them ones she could use to create potions and poisons and all of them in cheerful colors. Veezara was a very practical Argonian. She was given freedom of the Sanctuary again and she didn't try to leave, but she did little more than mope.

"Tidbit," Arnbjorn called to Nessa as she passed him in the great hall. "You and Veezara are going to take care of a couple of jobs we have." They were simple jobs, Nessa could have handled them herself, but he didn't trust sending her off alone just yet. It was best to have someone with her. Yet he and Nazir had agreed they should keep the girl busy and away from the Sanctuary for a time. Besides, Astrid would return soon and he could only just imagine what would happen when the two women saw one another again. He put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. "Cheer up, beef roast. Things are going to get better."

Nessa froze in her tracks realizing that Arnbjorn was actually being friendly and even… _sympathic?_ She looked in amazement at his hand on her shoulder and then looked into his face with a stunned expression. "Arnbjorn…" she said softly. "You like me."

He slowly removed his hand and a little growl issued from his throat. "Don't flatter yourself, morsel." A little twist to the corner of his mouth told another story.

She gave him the first smile she'd had in days. "We'll leave in the morning."

Arnbjorn nodded and strode off. This was good. By the time she returned, Astrid would have collected herself and perhaps the girl would have too. They could return to normalcy or what passed for it amongst the Dark Brotherhood.

~o~o~o~

_**Notes: **__I'm guessing from the lack of reviews of the last chapter that folks didn't like it. If you ever don't like something I write I really would value that feedback as well. The story is experimental for me, having never written slash fic before. But the affair is an important part of the story, especially with what happens later. _

_My thanks to Zevgirl and Biff McLaughlin for the reviews and support._


	10. Chapter 10

**Riften**

The marks were getting wise to him. You can't work the same town for too long, eventually they'll figure out that _Barenziah's Own Beauty Tonic_ has the same effect as the _Emperor's Immortality Elixir_, they'll both get you drunk enough to think you're beautiful and immortal, but in the morning you'll wish you were dead and find yourself uglier than ever. It was time to take the show on the road awhile. But Brynjolf had a last night drinking with Delvin in the Ragged Flaggon.

"It's getting worse," Delvin complained. "Our luck just keeps getting worse, lad."

Brynjolf shrugged. "Maybe, or maybe people aren't as stupid as they used to be."

The pair of thieves argued over luck and whether or not the gods cared at all about thieves and, if so, which gods. Delvin had a wide superstitious streak, but Brynjolf couldn't be more agnostic.

But Delvin was right about one thing, the thieves' guild was deteriorating. Brynjolf couldn't find it in himself to recruit anyone else since Nessa disappeared. The remaining thieves were getting caught or having streaks of bad luck. The cost to bribe guards to look the other way, while the sprung their thieves from jail, was cutting deeply into their profit. _What profit?_ There hadn't been profit in almost a year. Even Vex had bungled a job or two and that had her pissed off. When Vex was mad everyone suffered. She was almost as bad as Mercer, but at least the guild master was gone most of the time doing… gods only knew where and what. Brynjolf was, in all but name, the real guild master, but it wasn't a job he liked or even wanted. Someone had to bring in the coin and it was as good excuse as any to get out of town for a while.

The next day he set out – on foot, they didn't even have the money to pay for a seat on the wagon – for Whiterun. He'd set up in the market and hope he wouldn't run into any of his old marks. Before things went stale, he'd move onto the next town. Hopefully, by then he could afford the wagon. He didn't mind too much. Walking from town to town reminded him of his younger days and the season was warm. The mountain flowers and tundra cotton were in bloom and the sky was a shade of blue that reminded him of the eyes of the lass who had disappeared. _Best not think about that._ If there were any proof that Delvin was right it was in the disappearance of that girl.

_Ah, well. _He readjusted his pack and pushed thoughts of the thieves' guild out of his mind and let himself be cheered by the warm sun, cool breeze, and abundant flora and fauna.

**Sanctuary**

Astrid returned to the sanctuary nearly a week after leaving. She resumed her duties with her normal placid demeanor and competence, but Arnbjorn knew how demoralized she truly was.

"Where is she?" she asked him immediately upon arriving home. Somehow she knew the girl wasn't there. There was something missing from the sanctuary and she felt it immediately. She was still so attuned to the girl's life force that she could sense it missing.

"I sent her off to fill a couple of contracts. Veezara went with her." Her husband watched her closely to see her reaction.

She frowned but then nodded. "Probably for the best." She heaved a sigh and unpacked her things, saying nothing more.

Arnbjorn could sense her misery and how poorly she was covering it. He watched her silently, pondering what to say. None of the words he was considering were adequate. "You love her." It was a statement of fact, not a question.

Astrid's shoved her clothes into the armoire with more force than necessary. "No."

"Then what is going on with you?" He was beginning to lose patience with her sullen avoidance of discussion.

She slumped against the armoire and sighed again. "It's an infatuation. I'll forget about her soon enough."

Arnbjorn reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her into him. "I'll make you forget, love."

She smiled at him. The smile looked sad and wistful. "I love you, my wolf. I know I take you for granted sometimes, but I will always love you. I warned you when we married that vampires are prone to boredom."

He growled in his throat, pleased to hear her confession of love. "I've never denied you your little adventures, my love."

She kissed him on the cheek and loving drew her hand along his face. "You're remarkably civilized for a wolf," she said, teasing him.

He stared at her a moment trying to divine her thoughts. He made up his mind. It was time for her to move on and forget the girl. He pulled her tighter to him. "I'll show you just how civilized a wolf I am," he growled. He kissed her neck and nipped her shoulder though her shirt.

She didn't melt into his arms, or rake him with her nails, or thrust him back onto the bed and climb on top of him. "I'm not ready yet, love," she said softly, pushing him away gently. She turned away from him, going back to unpacking her bag, and he stared at the graceful lines of her back, wanting her intensely.

Making a low noise in his throat, frustrated with her refusal to discuss the situation and his own inability to broach emotionally loaded topics, he knew how this would play out. Eventually one or both of them would bubble over like an untended stew pot. They'd have a huge fight and maybe it would get resolved… or not. He shook his head and left their room.

In the great hall he took his frustration out on a training dummy with his great axe. He whirled around, wielding it like it weighed nothing. The training dummy was a splintered wreck before he was breathing hard. Then he took his axe to the grinding wheel and honed the blade. When he felt like he couldn't stand to be in the sanctuary a moment long, he left and walked into the forest.

_I want my wife back,_ he thought as he transformed into a wolf. He sprinted deep into the forest and picked up the scent of an elk. It tired before he did and his frustrations were forgotten as his jaws clamped onto the neck of the animal and its warm blood spilled into his mouth.

~o~o~o~

"Blades, Nessa." Veezara put his hand on Nessa's bow as she pulled it off her back preparing to assassinate their next target.

Nessa looked at Veezara, her brows gathering together. She bit her lip and put the bow back then slowly drew out her blades.

"What is it, sister?" Veezara asked. He knew Nessa was more than competent with her blades.

She felt foolish for saying it but… "It's just easier to do it from a distance. Less… personal."

There were advantages to being Shadowscale; you're raised to be an assassin from birth. This sort of squeamishness had never been a problem for him. Dead was dead whether it happened near or far. He put a reassuring hand on Nessa's shoulder. "You must practice most that which you like the least. Overcome your fears and put aside your dislikes. What we do should be done with finesse, grace, and artistry, otherwise it is mere butchery. We honor our victims by killing them swiftly and without pain, except of course, when the contract calls for other conditions."

"But I'm much better with my bow. I think I would have far more finesse and grace, not to mention it being more painless."

He shook his head. "This is good training and I want to see how stealthy you are and how you use your blades."

She nodded her acceptance, but the worry lines didn't go away.

The afternoon was late and there was ample shade. She took a deep breath and slipped into the darkness, carefully picking her way around the target's camp until she had circled behind him. She began to perspire with the tension that was mounting. Killing someone like this was awful. She much preferred killing from a distance. Granted it wasn't the first time she'd done this, but in Grelod's case she had been fueled by a cold anger and with Beitild, the woman had been drugged and quite unconscious. This was different.

Veezara was watching; she couldn't disappoint him. And Astrid… _Astrid, I won't disappoint you. _Nazir, he'd probably be happy if she failed; all the more reason to succeed. She steeled herself to her task and slowly crept up on her target. He was singing and chattering to himself. He sounded like he might be insane. It was just as well; perhaps he wouldn't hear the inevitable little noises she made.

Ten more steps, then eight. She slowed her breathing and tried to calm herself. Five steps, three, two, one… She reached around his neck and pulled him close. Her leg wrapped around his. He was firmly under her control, but only for a moment. That was all she needed. Her blades crossed over his neck and pulled back, biting deeply into skin, sinew, and arteries. He tried to shout but all that issued forth was a wet gurgle. She let him go and he fell to her feet in front of her. It was done.

Her hands shook as she looked at the dying man in front of her.

_This is what I am now._

She looked up and saw Veezara walking toward her. She wiped the sweat off her brow and watched him closely for his reaction. Trying to read a reaction from an Argonian was difficult. Their faces were incapable of much expression.

"You did well, sister. My only suggestion is to move faster, there was too much opportunity for him to turn and see you."

"I'm not an Argonian or Khajhiit, Veezara. My people are not as silent as yours. I can either move quickly or quietly. I don't think I can do both."

He nodded in agreement. "That is true, my Nord friend, but you do run quickly enough. Next time, when you're a dozen paces away, explode into movement. Take down your prey before they have an opportunity to react, yes?" He looked around at the open area they occupied. "Let's practice it a time or two."

"Here?" Nessa stared at the bleeding corpse.

"Yes. Get accustomed to corpses, my friend, you'll be creating many of them." He hissed in short, sibilant bursts, which Nessa had learned was his laugh.

She gulped and tried to forget the man she'd just murdered. They practiced until it got too dark to see.

_~o~o~o~_

The next target was a Khajiit traveling with a caravan. The pair of assassins watched the Khajiit setting up their camp from behind a rocky outcropping.

"How will you kill this one, Nessa?" Veezara asked her.

She surveyed the small Khajiit caravan. There were two others in the camp. There were no trees that were large enough to hold her, only those short, twisted yew trees that grew in this area. She could hide behind some boulders and shoot him from there, but it would be obvious. She had no doubt the cat-people could outrun her. She was about to admit she didn't know what to do when Astrid's words came back to her. _"If you can master becoming that girl at will, you will be a formidable assassin." _She swallowed hard. "Perhaps I can get him alone."

Veezara blinked slowly several times. "Ah… this is an art I can't coach you in. Are you sure you want to do this?"

She licked her lips nervously and nodded. She knew it would please Astrid if she succeeded. If she didn't… She pushed the thought away. "I'd better change into a dress." She rummaged through her pack and pulled out her new blue dress. She found a potion that she'd concocted at the sanctuary. It had worked splendidly on Beitild, hopefully it would work just as well on a Khajiit. She put it in her pocket and strapped a dagger to her calf.

"How do I look?" she asked Veezara.

"You appear colorful. I once saw an Agaceph princess that very shade. Very attractive. She was a mate desired by many."

Nessa stared at Veezara wondering if that was his idea of a compliment. "You don't like it?"

"I did not say that, guild-sister. I don't know if the Khajiit like blue." Veezara was confused by her question. He had complimented her choice of colors, did she not believe him?

She looked at Veezara speculatively. "If you were the Khajiit, would you want to mate with me?" She couldn't believe she was asking her friend that question, but she was curious. She was not attracted to him, but she wondered if perhaps he was attracted to her.

"I am not a Khajiit, so I cannot say, Nessa. I have heard of stories that Khajiit and humans mate sometimes, but not to have children. I don't think that's possible."

Veezara certainly wasn't good at picking up on innuendo. Nessa decided to try to be blunt. "Would _you_ want to mate with me? I'm just curious whether or not Argonians find humans attractive… in that regard."

_Was she asking him to mate with her? _His reptilian tongue shot out nervously several times. _She's ugly, as all humans are, but her manner is pleasant. How do I answer her? _"I am certain you are considered a very desirable mate amongst your people. You are young, healthy, and your temperament is agreeable. Your children would be many and strong. However, my kind generally does not mate with humans." His tongue flicked out again and again and his tail began to lash.

Nessa picked up on the fact that he was being made nervous by her line of questioning. "Can't you just say it, Veezara? We are friends, are we not?"

_Flick, flick, flick. _He shook his head. "I do not wish to give offense, sister. I do not find you attractive. At least, not in a way that makes me want to mate with you. Your hair is shiny and I like the color of your eyes." He was surprised that she smiled when he said it.

"Very well, I won't bother flirting with an Argonian if I need to assassinate one. That's all I wanted to know." She toyed with her braids and wondered if she should leave them in or take them down. Asking Veezara's opinion would be futile. He stood with his tail still twitching madly and his tongue still flickering. "Is something wrong, Vee?"

"Did you want to mate with me?" he asked.

"No!" she said vehemently and then realized it might hurt his feelings. "I mean, you're definitely a handsome Argonian and your personality is very friendly, but I don't want to do… that."

"I am relieved, my sister. I was worried."

She laughed and hugged him briefly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

He laughed in his reptilian manner. "Never fear, my friend. You can ask me anything." He pointed in the direction of the Khajiit encampment. "Your target awaits. I will be here. Shout if you need help."

Nessa nodded. "I will. It might take some time to lure him away."

"The Shadowscale are taught patience from the day they hatch," he said.

She gave him a quick nod and turned to walk to the encampment. She limped a little as she walked, thinking of a plausible story. She got relatively close to the camp before they noticed her. She paused a respectful distance from them. "Hello, travelers. Might I rest beside your fire for a bit? I have had some ill luck today and I'm weary of walking."

A Khajiit woman rose. "You are welcome to our fireside, Nord, even if your kind does not welcome us. I am Eshita. That is Kesh, sharpening his sword, and Tsavi is preparing our meal. Would you join us?"

Nessa perked up at the mention of Kesh's name. That was her target. "I would be honored, Eshita." She joined them at the ring of logs they had made around their fire. She told them a story that she was traveling to a nearby town when her wagon and horse were stolen by bandits and now she was reduced to walking and she had no means of defending or feeding herself.

The Khajiit females were sympathetic, but a little aloof. Nord's were not friendly to their race generally. They were often barred from the great holds in Skyrim and accused of crimes they didn't commit. Nessa was truly sorry to hear their plight especially when they had graciously welcomed her offering to share their meal and let her sleep by their fire. Her heart sank when she thought about murdering the man in their midst. _I mustn't fail. _She remembered Nazir's certainty that she would fail and die, and the story he told about the assassin killing himself rather than his target. _I will not fail. _Thinking of Astrid's disappointment if she did fail redoubled her will.

She accepted a drink from Tsavi and sat down by the fire across from Kesh. He was a battle-scarred cat with a notch missing from his ear, even so his coat looked thick and soft. She smiled shyly at him. Her natural shyness was still very much a part of her. What was new was that she knew she could use it to her advantage. She asked Kesh a question about his sword and that lead into stories of his warrior past and Nessa was full of questions.

People usually love being the focus of attention and asking people about themselves is the greatest compliment. Normally she asked questions to evade having to answer any about herself. The only difference this time was that there was an agenda: Nessa wanted Kesh to like her.

Kesh was suspicious at first, but he soon saw the girl was guileless. She was as shy as a kitten and pretty too. It would be an interesting evening's diversion to get this one into his bed. It'd been a long time since he'd bedded a human, and never a Nord. She was a tall girl, there would be a lot of her to enjoy. He edged a little closer to her and offered her a bottle.

"Skooma, my dear? It will make you forget your bad day." He pulled out the cork and handed it to her.

"Oh… I don't think… I mean, I never have and I probably shouldn't," her nerves got to her suddenly. She couldn't afford to be incapacitated.

"Ah, just have a small sip then. It will just serve to relax you a little." He nudged her hand holding the bottle closer to her lips.

She could feel herself flushing with embarrassment and a little panic.

"Kesh, that girl doesn't need your bad habit," Eshita scolded. "Dear, give him back that bottle. Skooma is a terrible habit to acquire and you're best not trying it. We have some good mead for you here."

Nessa was grateful for her intervention. "I think Eshita is right," she said to Kesh. "I'd better not try it." She handed the bottle back.

The Khajiit shrugged and took a sip from the bottle himself. He replaced the cork and put it back in his pocket, staring at Nessa the entire time. It was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable.

Tsavi served them dinner and they shared their meal with Nessa. It was quite spicy food with flavors and heat that she was unused to. The Khajiit seemed amused by her antics when she swallowed a hot pepper and thought she would die. But she soldiered on through the simple meal and found she rather liked the food.

"It's a lovely night, isn't it?" Nessa asked Kesh. She tried to think of some way to get the sleeping draught to him, but it was impossible with two other Khajiit there.

"The sky is clear and the stars twinkle like eyes," he replied, staring at her still.

Holding her bottle of ale, she stood up and turned away from the fire as if admiring the sky. She carefully emptied the packet of sleeping draught into her own ale while her hands were out of sight of the others. Then she stretched. "I think I will go for a little walk before I go to sleep. My muscles are getting stiff from all that walking today."

"I will go with you," Kesh offered. "You shouldn't be out in the dark alone, what with all the bandits and… bears."

Nessa smiled shyly at him again. "Thank you. You can tell me more about where you come from and I'd like to hear about that war. I'm sure you must have more stories."

"Of course, kitten. Of course." He took her by the arm and they meandered out of the camp, in the direction where Nessa had left Veezara.

She pretended to sip from her bottle of ale a few times. "Would you like some, Kesh?" She offered him the bottle.

"I do find myself a little thirsty, the skooma does that. Thirsty enough to drink this piss-water you Nords are fond of." He took the bottle and he drank deeply. "Now that we're away from the interfering old biddies I guard, perhaps you'd like to try some skooma?" He pulled the bottle out of his pocket and handed it to Nessa.

"I…" Nessa stared at the bottle a moment. It was dark enough she could probably put her finger over the opening and pretend to drink. "How much should I try?"

Kesh laughed, pleased with her willingness. "Well, you're a Nord but rather thin. A small swallow should suffice."

She held the bottle so he couldn't see that she didn't really take any. "Ummm…" she remarked. "I thought it would taste different than that. More like sugar." She had no idea what it tasted like, only that it was refined from something called moon sugar.

She handed the bottle back to Kesh. He was openly leering at her now. "You will feel very relaxed soon, kitten." He pointed at the rocky outcropping they were headed toward. "Let's go there and watch the stars for a while. You'll find the night sky is even more beautiful with a little skooma. Best shared with a companion, no?" He wrapped his arm around her waist.

"I… well, yes. I like looking at stars." She leaned into him a little. "How long does it take before I will feel the skooma?"

"Not long, just a few minutes."

They walked on a little further. It was still some distance to the rocky outcropping where Veezara waited when Kesh began to lean on her. The sleeping draught was working very quickly, perhaps because of the skooma in his system. She would need to get him further from the camp.

"The skooma was a bit strong tonight," he said. His walk became wobbly and then he stumbled, nearly falling.

Nessa laughed and helped him up. "Oh, well, perhaps the walk will make it wear off some." She encouraged him to keep walking but he was drooping against her more. He stumbled again and again and then he finally fell. He made it to his hands and knees but then collapsed back down to the ground. She bent over him and saw he was unconscious. Suddenly she wasn't sure what to do. They were still too close to the camp. Picking up his legs, she wrapped her arms around them and began to drag him closer to the rocky outcropping.

He was heavier than he looked and his clothes kept snagging on plants and brush. She dropped his feet and went to check on him. His breathing was very slow. She didn't know anything about Khajiit anatomy but she put her fingers on his neck to find a pulse. It was in the same place hers was. His heart was beating very slowly. She picked his feet up and began to drag him along further.

"Nessa?"

She recognized Veezara's voice. "Vee! Can you help me?"

A piece of shadow peeled away from the night and came to her. "Ah. You've killed him already? Why are you dragging him?"

"He's not dead, just unconscious. He collapsed too close to the camp. I need to get him further away to… you know."

"Kill him."

She nodded.

"Say it. This is what we do. Embrace it, sister. Take pride in your profession," he said.

"Kill… him," she said slowly. She pushed away the feelings of shame and revulsion. "This is who I am now, a killer."

Veezara shook his head. "No, an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood. There is a difference." He bent over the Khajiit and put his hand in front of his nose. "It appears your job is already done, sister. This cat is dead."

Dropping to her knees beside Kesh, she put her ear to his chest. She couldn't hear a heartbeat and his chest didn't rise or fall. "Odd! I didn't think the sleeping draught would kill him. I'll have to ask Babette and Gabrielle about that. Perhaps Khajiit are more sensitive to it."

"You need to make certain of it, sister," Veezara said and handed her his dagger.

"Oh." She gingerly took the dagger from him. Biting her lip, she refused to allow herself to hesitate. She cut his throat just as she had with Beitild. "May you find your gods, Kesh," she said. Then she wiped the dagger on his clothes and handed it back to Veezara. A wave of nausea began to rise from the pit of her stomach. A host of doubts began to rise to the surface of her mind in a disorderly stampede. _No! I won't think about it. This is who I am now. I'm an assassin. _She pushed away the questions, the doubts, all the emotions arising from what she'd just done. _Astrid will be proud of me._ That thought calmed her.

"That is good. The blood will draw animals. By the time the others find him, all they'll find will be his gnawed remains. They may assume you met the same fate." Veezara gestured her to precede him. "Let's gather our things and return."

With one more hard swallow, she turned and left Kesh's corpse, wishing she had Veezara's pragmatic way of looking at their profession.

They collected their things and began to walk back the nearest village. They'd take a cart back to Falkreath, back to the Sanctuary. Back home… to Astrid. The thought both quickened her step and made her fearful. What had happened was still something of a muddle to her. Arnbjorn had said Astrid nearly killed her, but she didn't believe him. He was jealous, of course. He'd sent Astrid away, no doubt to keep them apart, hoping his wife would forget her. _Astrid won't forget me. _She knew this as certainly as she knew anything.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__For those who haven't played Skyrim or its predecessors, Argonians are reptilian humanoid creatures and Khajiit are cat-like humanoids. _

_I love getting reviews and hear what my audience is thinking when they read this. Criticism is always welcome._

_Thanks to everyone that reviewed the last chapter, it really buoyed my spirits! I'm happy to hear most of you are enjoying it._

_I hadn't planned to write so much about these assassinations but I had so much fun writing Veezara and Nessa together I couldn't stop myself._


	11. Chapter 11

**Sanctuary**

Nessa had been silent the last few hours of their journey home and now Veezara could feel the tension radiating from her. He hadn't questioned her about anything that had happened at the sanctuary. It seemed like a matter that Arnbjorn wanted to keep private and he respected that. The others had gossiped and he had heard what they were saying, but he spent little time thinking about it.

"We are home, sister," he said as the great stone door rolled open and let them pass.

Nessa nodded. "Thank you, Veezara," she said solemnly. "I appreciate that you went with me." Her mind felt much clearer now, but for the jumbled events that happened shortly before this trip. Of those, she remembered very little. _Well... Through this door is Astrid. _She crossed the threshold and hoped that somehow Astrid would be waiting for her, ready to greet her with a kiss and that look in her eye that promised much more.

Of course, she wasn't there. Nessa walked slowly down the hallway, her feet pushing her reluctantly forward. Possible scenarios played through her mind. Arnbjorn was back, would her time with Astrid continue or would he put a stop to it? She couldn't imagine that Arnbjorn would ever consent to sharing his wife with her. She could just imagine him snarling at her although he'd actually been relatively polite. Perhaps Astrid would come to her room at night.

She paused a moment and entered the great hall. Almost everyone was there and they stopped what they were doing to look at her. It was, for a moment, a tableau frozen in time. No one spoke or moved, they just looked at her. Then as suddenly as it happened, it ended. Babette gave her a cheerful greeting and the movement and bustle resumed. They were studiously normal; doing all the usual things they did in the great hall, only the activity was glazed with a thick patina of curiosity.

She scanned the assembled assassins and didn't find the one she yearned for, but then she appeared, parting the assembled assassins as she moved across the great hall. Nessa's eyes pinpointed her, completely ignoring everything else. Time seemed to slow as the tall, beautiful Nord crossed the room to her. Even her heart slowed. In the few moments she had, she scanned her face anxiously, trying to read whatever she was thinking, or more importantly, feeling. But her face was the professional one, the one that betrayed nothing but determination and will.

Arnbjorn watched Nessa staring at his wife. _Poor kid, _he thought. Maybe she thought she was hiding it, but her expression revealed just how much she loved Astrid, and how fearful she was.

"When you've settled in, Nessa," his wife said, "please come to my office to report on your assignment."

She delivered the polite order in the same tone with the same expression she would have given to anyone else in their guild.

"Yes, ma'am," Nessa said, slipping into the polite, submissive formality that had been beaten into her at the orphanage. She tried to analyze every detail of the brief encounter to guess what lay in store for her, but her mind couldn't settle on an outcome but the one she wished for most: A few moments of privacy for a proper homecoming.

~o~o~o~

Arnbjorn waited a while after Nessa walked up the hallway to Astrid's office. He convinced himself eavesdropping wasn't honorable and sat down at the grinding wheel to sharpen his axe, but his curiosity got the better of him. He followed the girl's path to Astrid's office and stood outside, examining the bookshelf. He could hear them well enough.

"I trust you. I know you'd never... It was that stupid game we were playing. It was my fault."

Arnbjorn could hear Nessa pleading with his wife. The girl's voice was thick with tears.

"You know nothing, Nessa," she snapped at the girl, her voice like steel. "It's over and we're not going to discuss it any further. Now leave. Go help Gabrielle and Babette with their poison making."

The door to their room opened and Nessa rushed out. She was so consumed with despair she didn't even see Arnbjorn. He heard her feet running down the hallway before he went into their bedroom.

Astrid was sitting on the side of their bed, staring into space. She didn't even turn to him when he entered.

He sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her. She sat stiffly, not folding into him like she used to. "I'm sorry, love, that must've been difficult."

She shook her head and stood up. "It's over and time to move on. I don't want to discuss it." She turned to glare at him. "I won't have you gloating over this to Nessa, either. Gods only know what this is going to do to her."

Arnbjorn flinched with the berating his wife gave him when he merely wanted to comfort her. His initial reaction was to respond the same way but then he realized she was just as upset as Nessa, she just wouldn't show it. "Astrid. Come here, my love."

Fixing him with a flat, angry stare, she said, "Why don't you go reduce another training dummy into a pile of wood pulp. It's been a day or two since we've had to replace one."

He frowned at her wondering when she would get over this… _thing_, it had been weeks now. "Honey…" he started, trying another appeal to her sensibilities, still managing to keep his temper in check.

"Just stop with the sweet talk and the puppy-dog looks, Arn! I need some space." She hit the desk with the flat of her hand out of anger. "I am sick of you and Babette nattering at me, trying to fix me. Just stop it!"

Arnbjorn felt his hands balling into fists. He willed himself to relax them. "Just what do you want from me, Astrid? I don't know why you're taking this out on me, but I'll do whatever you need me to do."

Astrid closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly. "Space, Arn." She opened her eyes and looked at him with pain in her eyes. "I want to be alone for a while. I need to concentrate on our work here and forget everything else."

"Are you saying you want me to move out? After ten years together, you want me to move out?" He stared at her in disbelief.

She sighed and looked down at the floor, shaking her head. "For a while, my wolf. I just need space." She looked up at him, her eyes pleading for understanding.

"Gods damn it all, Astrid!" His frustration finally boiled over. "I bend over backwards to please you. You take lovers as you please and when it goes sour you take it out on me. What does it take to make you happy, woman?" He went to their chest of drawers and began unloading his clothes onto the bed.

She watched him for a few moments and then turned to leave. She hesitated with her hand on the door. "I'm sorry, Arn." Then she left.

He stuffed his belongings into a bag and threw the bag into one of the unused rooms. He would unpack later. Right now he was the one who needed space, and lots of it. He needed to run, to hunt, to kill. He strode up the hallway to the stone door that rolled open at his angry command. It was night, but the moons were out and both were full. He transformed into a wolf and ran past the tarn, plunging into the woods. He followed a deer path, his feet fueled by frustration and anger.

This situation was impossible. He blamed the girl, his wife… Babette… especially her! She's the one who started all this. The girl was just as much a victim of Babette's meddling as he was. Astrid should have known better than to lose herself to that girl. The thoughts whirled in his head as he tried to figure out whom to blame this mess on. Himself? Who was he to keep an immortal entertained? He was just a typical Nord…well, werewolf. He fought hard, he loved hard, but he knew he was predictable.

He picked up a scent on the light evening breeze, but didn't stop to analyze it, instead he followed it. It would be satisfying to take down an elk or perhaps fight a saber cat. Whatever the source of this scent was, he would meet it and defeat it. He stopped running to howl his challenge into the night and then he was off again, tracking the alluring scent. His feet pounded down the deer trail, unheedful of what he might be running to.

_It is my fault. I'm predictable and dull._

There was a patch of undergrowth blocking the path and he leapt over it easily, landing in a clearing. He heard a gasp and saw a pale form on the other side of the clearing. It was _her_. She was staring at him, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes looked frightened but determined.

"It's all right, woof. Kill me," she said, wiping away the tears running down her face. "I won't fight back."

She wasn't even armed. She'd left the sanctuary without her weapons. _What was she thinking?_ Arnbjorn growled his displeasure at her and walked toward her.

She closed her eyes and lifted her head, baring her throat. "Make it quick."

Arnbjorn stopped a few feet from her. She was certainly brave, he had to hand her that. He could smell her fear but she held her head up proudly, ready for him to rip out her throat.

Suddenly he sprang at her and knocked her over. She fell onto her back with a little yelp, but kept her eyes closed and didn't struggle or try to escape. He stood over her, his muzzle inches from her throat, his senses flooding with her scent.

"Gods damn you, stupid woof, get on with it," she cursed.

He transformed to human and he hovered over her. "Open your eyes," he said gruffly.

Her eyes flew wide and she took in the naked Arnbjorn crouched over her. She let out a surprised shout and scrabbled backwards. "You!"

"Did you forget I'm a werewolf, morsel? I could have sworn I've reminded you that fact on occasion," he said wryly.

She backed up further, turning her head away from his nakedness. "Why… where… why are you naked? What are you doing?"

He sat down, cross-legged, on the forest floor where she had been sitting a moment ago. Fortunately there were plenty of soft, decaying leaves to cushion his rear. "My clothes don't come with me when I'm a werewolf. They're somewhere over by the sanctuary. As for why I'm here… I suspect my answer is the same as yours."

Nessa's expression grew pained and she shook her head vehemently. "I _very_ much doubt that. Astrid loves you. It's me she hates." She gulped and began to sob. "I wish I were dead! Why didn't you just kill me?"

Despite himself he felt sorry for the girl. He remembered being her age and how intense emotions could be. "My wife loves you and I, despite my better judgment sometimes, will do whatever it takes to make her happy. You make her happy."

Nessa shook her head. "You're wrong, she doesn't love me. She hates me."

"No, you're wrong, hamshank. The reason she sent you away is because she loves you too much to destroy you. Not everyone has been so lucky."

Nessa pulled her knees into her chest and folded her arms and buried her face. Then she wouldn't have to see Arnbjorn's nakedness. "I don't believe you," she said, "she wouldn't hurt me."

Arnbjorn chuckled. "She's killed two husbands and I don't know how many lovers. She gets carried away sometimes and can't stop. She thought she had more control now, but your blood called to her and the situation you two were in… it was more temptation than she could bear. She was wrong. She isn't strong enough to stop."

Nessa lifted her head up from her arms and looked at Arnbjorn, trying to ignore his nudity. "Then why hasn't she killed you?" Confusion was beginning to override her grief.

"She can't enthrall me. Has something to do with my werewolf blood. She can feed and I can stop her if she takes too much. It's an enjoyable experience, but probably nothing like what you felt."

Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember. It was odd that she couldn't remember many specifics, just intense pleasure that seemed to go on and on. "I… it was like nothing I'd ever experienced before."

"And neither of you could've stopped the inevitable, had I not stepped in…" He stopped speaking suddenly, struck by an thought. "Had I not stepped in and pulled her off you," he repeated.

"You still haven't explained why you're here," she said.

"Astrid is angry. At herself, but she takes it out on me. I needed to blow off some steam, get away, and think a little. At times like this, I like to go for a run through the woods. Usually I find an elk or a deer, maybe a goat. The hunting calms me. Tonight though… I picked up your scent."

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, really looked at her, as a man looks at a woman. She wasn't at her best, with her face red, puffy, and tear-stained, but even so she was pretty. He'd seen her naked; she was as slender as a young doe and her eyes were a deep, piercing blue that didn't give him a headache. It was like a bit of sky had been ripped out and pasted into her sockets. Yes, he could believe he was looking at a younger version of his wife, before she was turned.

Those few moments when he'd walked into his bedroom and seen his wife on top of her were etched permanently in his memory. The smell of the girl's arousal, seeing her wet thighs… well, he'd thought of it since… a time or two. Arnbjorn wasn't a man to wax prosaically about a young woman's charms, but if he hadn't been a married man, he would have made every attempt to bed her.

Not that being married had ever stopped Astrid, he mused. They'd been together for ten years and she'd had her adventures, but he hadn't. His vows had been meant in earnest, even though he knew she was likely to break hers. Yet they were at a crisis right now. Astrid had decided to harden her heart and spurn all affection, even his. Talking to the girl he realized there was another way. Perhaps he could save his marriage. _That certainly wouldn't be predictable. _

Arnbjorn wasn't a subtle man. He wasn't a sneak or a schemer. He could move quietly, as a wolf, but it always came down to a battle at the end. His methods were direct and blunt, so the scheme he hatched came as a great surprise to him. Whether he could execute it or not remained to be seen.

"Listen morsel, maybe you don't like me, we got off to a rough start. I confess, I was a little jealous at first. I could have been nicer."

She shook her head. "I don't blame you, Arnbjorn. I've felt guilty about my relationship with Astrid. I didn't intend…"

Arnbjorn's smile brimmed with irony. "Oh, I know that, well enough. My wife is beautiful and seductive. She usually gets what she wants, and she wanted you. I don't blame you. Just know this, _bit_, I'm on your side. We might be in love with the same woman, but that doesn't mean we can't be friends. All right?"

Nessa nodded somberly at Arnbjorn. He extended his hand and she crept closer to him to take it. His grip was firm but gentle and his thumb gently stroked her knuckles as they shook hands. It puzzled her. This man should hate her, he should have wanted her dead, but he seemed sympathetic to her sorrow.

"I won't bite," he said, smiling gently at her.

"I know but you're… naked." Her eyes skittered off to look at almost anything but him.

He looked around himself and picked up a large leaf from amongst the decaying forest litter. He placed it over his genitals. "Is that better?"

She glanced at him and let her eyes drift down to the offending bit and she laughed, despite the sorrow she was feeling.

"Let's go back to the sanctuary, bit," Arnbjorn suggested.

She wondered how he'd keep the leaf in place when he stood. "All right." They stood and she walked back to the sanctuary with a completely naked man: Her former lover's husband. _Life was too gods damned complicated._

~o~o~o~

Over the next week, the sanctuary was a tense place. Babette loved it, however. She thrived on tension and drama. She spent time flitting between Astrid and Nessa, sympathizing with both of them and cajoling them for more details from their affair.

"Perhaps you should turn her, Astrid," Babette suggested yet again.

Astrid glared at her friend. "I told you I wouldn't do that. Look, I'm not going to talk about it any longer. Yes, it's terribly tragic, but it is over. I have a guild to run and people to kill. We have three new contracts and a backlog. This war with the Imperium has been good for business. I'm going to keep everyone very busy for the next several months, and that includes you. I'm sure there are some creepy old men who like girls a little too young."

"Oh, good! It's starting to get boring around here," Babette said, kicking her feet that dangled from the chair. "Maybe I'll find someone else to recruit. Perhaps you'd like a handsome man this time?"

Astrid frowned. "Next person you think you're going to recruit I'm going to leave as a pale husk in the abandoned shack, so don't even bother. I've got enough problems." She gestured to the door to her office. "Scoot, Babette. We're going to have guild meeting shortly and I need to get ready."

Babette jumped off her chair and Astrid heard her feet pattering down the hallway. She stood in her office for a moment feeling very alone. Arnbjorn had been polite but distant with her. He seemed to understand that she needed her space right now but she knew he was hurting. Nessa tried to avoid her, but it was impossible. Whenever they met, Astrid was impersonal and distant, but Nessa's eyes always looked wounded. Her heart ached for the girl, and for herself, but she'd never let it show. Work was the solution to their problem. All of them just needed to attend to their business and they would forget.

She looked in the little reflecting glass hanging on the wall and searched her face for the lines that Nessa said she loved. But the laughter lines hadn't appeared on her face in weeks.

~o~o~o~

"We have a heavy workload that is going to keep us busy for the next few months," Astrid announced to the assassins assembled in the great hall. "Nazir is handling some jobs around Whiterun. Babette you're going to take some jobs we got from the Imperium. You'll be spending some time in Windhelm and Winterhold. Nessa, I've got a job for you in Solitude from the Stormcloaks. There are some Imperials that need to die in either accidental or of natural causes. You've been doing well with poisons. I think this would fit your particular talents. It's a difficult assignment though, so I want someone to go with you." She looked around at the assassins. "Any volunteers?"

"I'll go," Arnbjorn strode forward, smiling at Nessa and then turning to his wife to watch her reaction. She blinked with surprise a few times and her eyebrow arched. Nessa's forehead creased and she stared at Arnbjorn in confusion.

"Very well," she said. "I want Nessa to be primary on this job, Arnbjorn. You're just there for backup and advice. Understood?"

He nodded, his eyes boring into his wife's. _Surprised you, didn't I?_

The rest of the meeting passed and most of the assassins were given assignments. Only Astrid, Festus and Gabrielle would be at the sanctuary. As Arnbjorn went down the hall to his room he could hear his wife's familiar tread behind him. He turned and waited for her to catch up.

"I want to talk to you, Arn," she said softly. "In your room."

He nodded and let her precede him into his quarters. "As you wish, my love." He pulled shut the door.

"Why are you going with her?" Astrid demanded.

"Why shouldn't I?" he countered. "I could teach her a thing or two."

Astrid blinked slowly. Was he planning to harm the girl? He may blame her for their separation… would he kill her? Such things were against the guild rules, but if Arnbjorn felt sufficiently aggrieved he might do something and make it look like an accident. "Arn, don't you dare harm her." Her voice was tinged with menace and she locked eyes with her husband.

"Of course not, I plan on being _very_ gentle with her." He kept his voice bland but couldn't help the little upturn of one side of his mouth.

Astrid gave her head a little shake as if she were trying to shake water out of her ears. _What in Oblivion is he up to? _She felt a pang of jealousy but couldn't figure out exactly who she was jealous of… or why. Arnbjorn had always been predictably faithful to her. That he'd consider seducing his wife's lover - former lover, now - was ridiculous. Still… "You're not…" she hesitated, the suggestion was ludicrous.

"Not what, dear?"

"Oh, never mind. I'll give you the details of the contract and you can tell her."

He nodded. "Of course, love. That'll be easier for both of you."

She looked at him suspiciously. He was being far too agreeable. Well… she wasn't in a position where she could complain about it. "There's a pair of Imperium officers that need to die. It needs to look…"

"Accidental or natural. I heard you out there."

"Right. Both men have an eye for Nord girls. One is getting on in years. It's perfectly possible that his heart might give out during a night of passion. The other is a younger man and I don't know enough about him to suggest how to arrange his death. The pair of you will have to figure it out." She cocked her head and gave her husband a puzzled look. "Have Nessa discuss potions with Babette. I'll give you ample expense money. Radiant Raiment should have some nice looking clothes for her. She'll need something rather eye-catching, I'd imagine, but not whorish, something modest and demure, to suit her innocent look."

He grinned. "Are you sure whorish wouldn't work? It'd work on me."

Astrid rolled her eyes. "Oh gods, I can't believe I'm letting you go with her. Yes, I'm sure."

"All right, I'll do my best. Fashion isn't my strong suit."

"No kidding." She looked her husband over still wondering what had gotten into him. "Any questions?"

"Can we take Shadowmere?" he asked. "It'll be faster than the cart or walking and he's not afraid of me in wolf form."

"Just the one horse?" Astrid asked.

"I can run most of the way and Shadowmere is strong enough to carry us both if I tire."

She shrugged. "That's fine." She looked at her husband and felt a little guilty for how she had been treating him. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Be careful."

He nodded. "Of course, love. We'll leave tomorrow if Nessa's potions are ready, otherwise the day after."

She gave him a small smile and left. _What had gotten into Arnbjorn?_ She realized that even though she'd pushed them both away, she was going to miss them.

~o~o~o~

_**Notes: **__I'm heavily indebted to Biff McLaughlin and Zevgirl for their feedback, always, but in particular for this chapter. There were things I wanted to write but I couldn't figure out how to get from point A to point B. Their feedback was really life-saving. _

_I realize that in Skyrim werewolves don't look like wolves, per se, but I'm taking liberties here and making them look exactly like wolves. _

_I'd love to hear your speculation about where you think this is headed. I dropped some hints, but I tried not to be too obvious. This is one of those things that is kind of hard to do as a writer. Some people will miss it entirely; others will think it's too obvious._

_Super- uber-thanks to those of you that reviewed! I realize it's a pain-in-the-patoot to do, probably especially if you're on a mobile device, but your feedback is incredibly valuable to me, both to judge if I'm hitting the mark or missing it. So please do review if you can!_

_You might have noticed they changed the review process. It's a box down at the bottom of the screen. If you're logged in it'll say Posting as: Username, otherwise it'll say Posting as: Guest. Yeah… I totally didn't notice that and I posted a bunch of reviews as guest. Anyway, I can't respond to you unless you're logged in. _


	12. Chapter 12

**Skyrim **

The massive black horse rose from the black tarn outside the sanctuary. Nessa watched in amazement and a little fear. Its red eyes glowed in the pre-dawn darkness. She turned to Arnbjorn. "You expect me to ride this… hellspawn?"

"You don't know how to ride, morsel?"

She furrowed her brow, looking angrily at him. "I know how to ride well enough, but this… creature…" she sputtered as she eyed the demonic horse.

"Aw." Arnbjorn shook his head and stepped up to the horse that whickered familiarly and nuzzled him. "Don't listen to her, Shadowmere. She's an ignorant girl." He turned to Nessa. "This is Astrid's own horse and it's probably the fastest in all of Skyrim, not to mention a fierce and stout-hearted fellow as well. But mind your tongue, _bit_, Shadowmere understands you. Now, if you're done complaining, we should go."

Nessa shot a dubious glance at Arnbjorn but approached the edge of the tarn and held out a hand to the horse. It stepped out of the inky pool and sniffed her hand. "I'm sorry, Shadowmere. I've just never seen a horse like you." At that, the horse nuzzled her hair and let her guide him.

"There, you see? He's a perfect gentleman, unless he doesn't like you." Arnbjorn grasped Nessa around the waist and lifted her easily onto the horse.

"I can mount, myself, you know." She bristled at Arnbjorn treating her like a child.

"That I should like to see, bit. Mounting yourself sounds quite… interesting." He began to undress himself as he teased Nessa.

"Gods! Why are you undressing now?" Nessa said, watching him pull his shirt over his head. "I think you've got an unnatural inclination to be naked!"

He stuffed his shirt into his pack and began to unlace his pants. "I'm going to run alongside. Can't keep up as human and I don't want to leave my clothes behind. Better get used to seeing me naked, bit." He pulled down his breeches and she turned away.

Nessa worried. Going on this long journey with Arnbjorn was going to be very trying. Even though they'd been getting along better there was still tension between them. Not only that, but Nessa was very depressed over Astrid's rejection and seeing Arnbjorn every day was a reminder of that. She sat astride Shadowmere, patting his neck while Arnbjorn took his clothes off. Then he tied their bags to the horse's saddle.

"All right then," he said. "Let's get on the way."

Turning to look at him she saw him begin to transform. It looked like it must be horribly painful as his body stretched in some places and contracted in others until he became the white ice wolf she had seen in the forest. Shadowmere seemed not to mind the proximity of the wolf. Nessa doubted that anything as hellish looking as this horse would have anything to fear from a wolf. Nessa spurred the horse and they climbed out of the ravine where the sanctuary was hidden.

Once on the road Shadowmere seemed to want to run; it was all Nessa could do to keep him to a trot. She was afraid Arnbjorn wouldn't be able to keep up. But he trotted alongside them seemingly without effort. After they'd gone a little ways Arnbjorn let out a strange bark and Shadowmere broke into a canter. The wolf had no problem keeping up so she kicked the horse into a gallop. That, finally, was what Shadowmere wanted. He seemed to almost fly down the road and his stride was uncommonly comfortable. Arnbjorn kept pace with them, but Nessa could see it was an effort. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth and his galloping gait almost a mirror of the horse's. It almost seemed like the horse and the wolf were racing. In fact, she was sure of it. She bent close to Shadowmere's neck and urged him on.

The lack of wind resistance and Nessa's encouragement gave the horse the advantage and soon they were pulling ahead of the white wolf. The race was exhilarating and she found she was smiling and patting the horse, completely forgetting how demonic the horse looked.

"Good boy, Shadowmere. You showed that woof, didn't you?"

Shadowmere's head bobbed as if he understood her and he slowed down to a comfortable canter again to let Arnbjorn catch up. The wolf's sides were heaving so she slowed the horse to a trot to let him recover, but even at a trot the miles were passing quickly.

They traveled swiftly that first day, stopping only a few times to eat. Arnbjorn would bark gruffly and Shadowmere seemed to understand that the wolf wanted him to stop, so stop he would. Nessa was impressed with the horse; hellspawn or not, it was keenly intelligent. She wondered how Astrid had acquired such an amazing horse. Then thinking of Astrid sent her off into a funk again.

At one stop Arnbjorn ran off into the underbrush after barking Shadowmere to a stop. She slid out of the saddle and paced back and forth, trying to work the kinks out of her muscles.

_How could I have prevented this?_ She thought for the hundredth time. _How could I have kept Astrid?_ She tried to work out all the ways she failed. Everything had seemed to be so wonderful, but then that night had happened. Arnbjorn and Astrid had both told her she had nearly died, but she didn't believe them. Truthfully, the events were still blurred. All she remembered was feeling the most intense pleasure… then it seemed that several days passed before she remembered anything else. _Perhaps they're right._ But why had Astrid rejected Arnbjorn too? It didn't make a bit of sense to her.

She was so deep in thought she didn't hear Arnbjorn return. He watched her pacing back and forth, her face was sad and drawn. He dropped the fat hare he was carrying in his mouth and transformed back to human. He walked up behind her as she stood staring out over the landscape and put a gentle hand on her shoulder to reassure her.

Nessa yelled and jumped away, landing several feet away in a crouch and she began to draw her weapons.

"Good reflexes, bit, but you were rather easy to surprise," Arnbjorn said, smiling.

"By the Nine, woof, I could have killed you!" she snapped at him, her eyes flashing angrily.

He chuckled, his smile growing. "Not likely."

Her nerves were still on edge from being startled and the tension made her lash out. "And you're naked again. Talos have mercy, can't you cover yourself at least a little?"

His smile grew sardonic as she ranted at him. "I bring a fine rabbit for our lunch and all you can do is complain about how I dress?" He handed her the rabbit.

"You don't dress, that's the problem," she said. She took the rabbit over to a rock and began to skin it expertly. She'd certainly had enough practice skinning and butchering rabbits on her journeys around Skyrim.

Arnbjorn growled something at her and stomped over to his pack and pulled out a pair of pants and put them on. "Does that suit, your highness?"

Nessa looked up from the rabbit she was skinning and nodded. She looked at the rabbit but her eyes wanted to track back to Arnbjorn. She'd never really looked at him when he was naked. She always looked away and tried not to see. But now… his pants rode low on his hips and he had the most fascinating indentations where his waist and hips joined. She swallowed hard and willed herself to focus on the rabbit. He also had a pale, broad chest and arms like a blacksmith. She hadn't thought about men at all since Astrid and all of a sudden her mouth was going dry because of _him_? She truly was going insane.

_Focus Nessa! _The knife slipped and she nearly made a mess of the hare.

"How do you expect to seduce your targets in Solitude if you can't even bring yourself to look at a naked man?" Arnbjorn asked her.

"Wait… Seduce them?" Nessa put the knife down and looked at Arnbjorn, forcing herself to look at his face.

"Oh right, I didn't tell you about that yet, did I? Surely Astrid said as much in the meeting. That's why she's sending you, a pretty Nord girl whose shy naiveté ensnares them. Old man dies in bed fucking a young girl. No one thinks a thing of it except, perhaps, to envy him."

"Fucking an old man?" She stood up abruptly, half-skinned rabbit forgotten. "I thought maybe he could slip and fall down some stairs or something like that." She shook her head. "You can't be serious!"

He shrugged. "It's what Astrid suggested, but I suppose we could think of another way if you can't bring yourself to do it."

Nessa frowned. _Astrid suggested it. _There were few arguments that could carry more weight than that with her. She bit her lip and nodded at Arnbjorn. "I can do it."

It sounded like she was trying to convince herself rather than him. "Have you ever been with a man, bit?"

She nodded and went back to skinning the hare. "Yes." She didn't elaborate.

"And?" he prompted her. "Was it not to your liking?"

She didn't answer at first and Arnbjorn wondered if she would.

"It hurt and was… kind of disgusting. All that grunting and sweating…" she said, looking intently at the rabbit. "Can't see what all the fuss is about, actually."

Arnbjorn turned away to hide his smile. "And yet you enjoyed it with Astrid?"

"That was different!" She yanked hard on the rabbit skin pulling it free of the meat. "It was beautiful and gentle." She skipped over the parts where Astrid had shown her rougher side, but even so it had been pleasurable. "She always took time and made sure I was enjoying it." Thinking of Astrid made her sad again.

"Don't you think a man could be like that?" he asked.

"No. Especially not a Nord. They're rough and brutish." She wrinkled her nose.

He turned around again, his smile fading. "How many men have you been with, Nessa?"

She didn't answer but concentrated on carving the rabbit.

"Well? Must be a lot if you're such an expert on Nord men," he goaded her.

"It was _not_ a lot! Just one." The insinuation offended her. She deftly cut through the last thigh bone and stood back from her work.

"Ah," he said, stroking his beard and nodding sagely. "You've slept with one man, a Nord presumably, and now you've passed judgment on all of us."

She wiped her bloody hands on the grass. "I suppose you're the exception to the rule? You, of all Nord men, are an excellent lover?" She laughed. "Funny, the one I slept with said much the same."

"Do you really think Astrid would put up with me if I weren't a good lover?" He was glaring at her now.

She bit her lip but set her jaw stubbornly and shrugged. "She put up with me and I knew nothing."

"You learned, didn't you? In fact, I bet you learned quite a lot." He leered at her, coming within her personal space, noting she didn't pull away but faced him defiantly.

"The hare is ready for cooking. We need a fire. I'll get some firewood." It was a good excuse to get away from him. Talking about his wife that way... it made her very uncomfortable but she'd be damned if she showed him.

She didn't hear his low chuckle as she left. When she returned she used a spell Festus had taught her to light the wood and they roasted the hare, maintaining an uncomfortable silence. Then when it was time to resume their travels Arnbjorn announced he wanted to ride for a while.

"Should I walk, then?" she asked.

"No, that'll be too slow. We'll ride double."

For the rest of the day they both rode Shadowmere, Nessa in front and Arnbjorn behind her. She was acutely aware of him behind her, his muscular thighs against her hips, sometimes with one arm loosely wrapped around her waist for balance. It was oddly comforting, she found. There was something fascinating about his pale arm, how ropey it was with muscles and veins. She wondered how it would feel to be embraced with such arms. _Shut up!_ She mentally scolded herself for such thoughts.

That night they found a secluded grove a ways off the road and set up their tent. He slept in wolf form at the opening to the tent, with his nose poking out, and she slept in a bedroll on the other side of the little tent. It was an easy matter for Nessa to fall asleep. She was exhausted.

Arnbjorn watched the moons rise and listened to Nessa's slumbering breath. The girl had a few lessons to learn and he intended to teach them to her.

_~o~o~o~_

Encountering bandits and highwaymen was an unfortunately frequent occurrence while traveling in Skyrim. They continually scanned rocky slopes, looking for reflections from weapons, or warily passed by seemingly abandoned fortresses. Often they were able to avoid them, but from time to time they had to fight. Usually the bandit groups were half-starved, poorly armed soldiers from one army or the other, either deserters or survivors from a battle gone badly for their side. If they were Stormcloaks, there was a good chance they wouldn't be attack because Arnbjorn and Nessa were Nords. The assassins often shared their food and perhaps a little coin. It was worth it to avoid a fight that might slow them down.

However, if the bandits were from the Imperial army, those who called themselves Forsworn, or just regular outlaws preying on travelers, there would be a fight, usually after a ridiculous demand that they hand over the horse, and all their goods and that Nessa should come willingly with them, "_or else_".

That was usually when Arnbjorn would barrel out of the underbrush and rip the throat out of the nearest bandit and Nessa would suddenly have two blades in her hands and go for another bandit. At first when they fought together it was a little clumsy but little by little they seemed to learn how to stay out of each other's way.

As Veezara predicted, she made a lot of corpses, but fighting for your life was a little different from assassination.

As the days passed they went from the relatively mild south to the colder north. It was early autumn and the trees were turning gold, yellow and red, and many were losing their leaves already. The last few days the air held a bite she hadn't felt in a long time.

They'd been on the road for a week now and were nearly halfway to Solitude. They would reach Rorikstead in two more days, Arnbjorn said. When they stopped that afternoon, she used the last of the light that afternoon to wander through the woods and find useful ingredients. The woods exerted a strong pull on her as the setting sun's light filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground in shadow and light stained with the hues of autumn.

There were clusters of mountain flowers in blue, purple, and sometimes red, where the trees were spaced further apart and the sun could hit the ground for a few hours each day. She followed the trail of flower clusters, picking them for her potions and poisons. Her hands were becoming full of mountain flowers when she spotted a very shady grove, in the center of which was a perfect circle of mushrooms at least eight feet across.

"A fairy circle!" She ran into the center of it. Dropping her flowers she spread her arms and turned in circles, her eyes closed, three times around one way, then three the other. If she didn't blunder into a mushroom she would get her heart's desire, or so the children said. _Astrid. _

She stopped her turning and opened her eyes and saw herself perfectly centered and the mushrooms undisturbed.

"What did you wish for?" Arnbjorn walked out of the shadows of the forest, for once not naked.

"Wish? It is no wishing game. The fairies will grant your heart's desire, or so the children believe." She smiled sheepishly and lurched to the side a little dizzy from the turning about.

Arnbjorn leapt over the mushroom and steadied her. "I can guess what that is." He shook his head and grimaced at her. "My wife."

She shrugged. "Maybe. Perhaps I don't know my heart's desire yet. It might be the gods intend something else for me than to desire someone's wife." She sighed and dropped down on the ground next to her flowers. "I don't know, Arnbjorn."

He crouched down beside her and gathered up her flowers. "Maybe there is someone else for you, bit." He held out the flowers to her and she gathered them in her hands.

She looked him in the face and their eyes met held. His were pale gold. _How odd_, she mused, _when he is a wolf they're gray blue, like ice._ He seemed to draw nearer than necessary to put the flowers in her arms and she didn't retreat. The moment seemed suspended forever frozen, like an insect in amber. And amber it was, with the sun filtering through yellow leaves. His hand wrapped around her upper arm and for a moment he pulled her toward him.

Then just as suddenly he threw her violently to the side. "Bandits!" he shouted as he pulled the enormous battle axe off his back. An arrow sliced the air where she had been just the moment before and nearly hit Arnbjorn. He roared an angry challenge and met one of the several bandits rushing at them.

Nessa rolled behind a boulder and pulled her bow off her back. Even as she drew a pair of arrows from her quiver, she noticed the men scuffling through the fairy ring and sending mushrooms flying everywhere. It was an oddly incongruent thought. Collecting herself she nocked an arrow, aimed and let it fly. It hit one of the bandits in the bicep. He shouted and looked up to see her peeking out from behind the boulder.

The outlaw roared at her and charged, forgetting about Arnbjorn. With the second arrow in her hand already she nocked it quickly, aimed, and, as he was just leaping on the rock with his sword raised, she shot him in the belly. He folded up and dropped backwards off the boulder. That had come closer than she would have liked. She drew two more arrows out of her quiver.

Arnbjorn was holding his own with two bandits, although he was spending more time blocking their strikes and punching them than he was actually swinging his axe. She scanned the area looking for the archer who had initially shot at them and saw someone slinking through the trees trying to get a better shot at Arnbjorn. If that archer continued on his current path, she might be able to shoot him as he came into view between a pair of widely spaced trees. She decided to hold her position and try for the difficult shot.

She tried to conceal herself as well as possible in the shadows. She nocked an arrow, drew, and waited. Sweat began to bead on her upper lip and her arm started to weaken from holding the string for so long. Then, finally, the archer stepped into view. "Talos, guide my arrow," she whispered and she let it fly.

Talos must've heard her prayer because the arrow hit the other archer in the arm. She heard a shriek and saw him drop the bow.

"Ha! Just try using that bow now, dog!" she shouted and made an obscene gesture in his direction.

Arnbjorn was still on the defensive and he was tiring. She had to help him. She pulled out another arrow and waited until there was plenty of room between him and an attacker and she shot one. It struck him in the hip and the man limped out of combat, trying to retreat in a hurry. That allowed Arnbjorn to concentrate on one attack. She drew another arrow and sent it into the back of the retreating bandit. Just then Arnbjorn delivered a pummeling with the handle of his axe and then finished with a blade to the man's neck. An executioner couldn't have performed a more flawless beheading. The bandit's head rolled a short ways away. Nessa was reminded Helgen.

"Oh… ugh." She turned away for a moment not wanting to see the gory sight before her.

"Are you all right?" Arnbjorn looked at her with concern in his eyes.

"I'm fine… I just don't like beheadings. I nearly was once." She looked up at him and smiled tentatively. "Neatly done, though."

Arnbjorn looked at the site where they had fought. "Sorry about the fairy ring."

She laughed at him, just glad he was alive and unhurt. "I don't care about the stupid fairy ring. I was just being… childish."

There was the sound of a twig snapping behind her and she turned to see the archer she'd shot. "Talos!" she swore aloud. She'd forgotten about him.

Apparently he hadn't forgotten about her. He held a hand axe with his good arm and rushed at her. "I will kill you, Nord bitch!" he screamed. She had an arrow nocked and drawn while there was still a good distance between them. She let the arrow fly, but before she could even shout a warning Arnbjorn leapt in front of the man, his axe ready to split the man down the middle.

She saw her own arrow sink into Arnbjorn's shoulder and he gave a grunt, but his axe still cleaved the man, hewing his shoulder where it met his neck. The last bandit dropped and Arnbjorn dropped his axe and looked over his shoulder to see the arrow lodged there.

"Arnbjorn! Oh gods!" Nessa dashed over to him. "I'm so sorry."

He groaned and sat on a rock. "I guess that's one way you can get Astrid to yourself," he said chuckling.

The comment struck her like a cruel barb. "I didn't do it on purpose!"

"I know, bit." He smiled gamely at her. "I didn't bother to see what you were doing when I jumped in there." He grunted with the pain. "I didn't fancy him talking to you that way." He reached over his shoulder with the uninjured arm and grasped the arrow around the shaft and pulled.

"Talos! No!" She slapped at his hand. "Let me do it, you'll just damage yourself more."

He pulled his hand away and ground his teeth, waiting for her. This stupid wound was going to hamper his ability to fight and it'd certainly slow down their travel for a few days. He wouldn't be able to travel as a wolf and riding Shadowmere would be damned painful.

Nessa bit her lip and carefully wrapped her hand around the arrow. It'd sunk in deeply. "Ready?" she asked.

"Just get it out," he growled.

She squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced, but pulled the arrow out smoothly, trying not to damage more muscle. The wound started to bleed copiously then. "I'm sorry."

He gave a deep throated growl as the arrow came out, but that was as much as he expressed. "I'm not going to be able to hunt for our supper tonight."

"You don't need to." She tried to help Arnbjorn to his feet but he got up on his own. "I'll take care of it all." They walked down together to where they'd left the horse and she began setting up the camp.

With water boiling and a warm fire going she walked over to where Arnbjorn was seated. "Take your shirt off. I need to clean that wound and bind it."

He looked at her through half-lidded eyes, trying to ignore the pain and the feeling of blood soaking into his shirt. "You just want me naked, don't you, bit?"

She frowned at him. "I won't have to wait long, I'm sure. You're usually naked every other time I look at you."

He chuckled and crossed his arms, grabbing the hem of his shirt and tried to lift it off. He hissed loudly when he tried to raise the arm on the injured side. "You're going to have to undress me, morsel."

She helped him out of his shirt. He hissed again when it stuck to the wound and she had to pull it away. "I'm sorry, Arnbjorn. I have some potions that should help."

"Just don't confuse your potions with your poisons, bit," he joked and then groaned.

Nessa went through her backpack and found an assortment of healing salves and potions. "Now", she looked between the bottles and jars in her lap, "which was the festering poison of ulceration and which was the healing tonic?"

Arnbjorn's eyebrows rose in alarm and then he saw Nessa sneak a look at his face with a sly smile on her own. "Ah, you had me worried, bit."

"The healing tonics and salves are blue, from the mountain flowers, and I always put them in the same type of jar. An alchemist can't be sloppy with such things. There's a little rune on these jars too." She held it out for him to see. "In case you ever need to use this stuff on me. That rune means _healing_." She got up and dipped her cloth into the pot of very hot water and began to bathe his wound.

"That hurts!" Arnbjorn complained and pulled away from her.

"I know. Sit still! We need to clean the gunk out. Besides, if you think this hurts wait until I pour the healing potion in there. It might be best if you take a sleeping potion first."

"The one you give people and they never wake up from?" he asked. "I'll pass."

"Well… yes, but I won't give you so much. Trust me, woof." She worked on his wound, pulling out bits of hair and grass. She rummaged through her backpack again and found the sleeping draught. "This one has a closed eye on it." She showed him the rune. "For obvious reasons."

"I don't need it," he said gruffly. "Just get on with it."

Sighing, Nessa opened the top to the healing tonic. "Bend over then and _don't move!_"

He leaned forward and she poured the blue liquid into his wound. A deep rumbling growl came from him and Nessa feared he might turn into a wolf. "Don't move!" she scolded him. After a few minutes she began to dry the wound and then apply salve. "You can sit up now."

His face looked paler than normal and his jaw was set rigidly against the pain. "Are you done torturing me?" he asked.

"The worst is over. A little healing magic and then I'll bind it." She placed her hands over the wound and used the healing spell that Gabrielle had taught her. It wasn't very powerful but she could tell it made him feel better.

Arnbjorn relaxed a little as the restoration spell worked on his shoulder. For a moment he was almost pain free. "Gods, that feels good."

Magic did not come easily to Nessa. Brow furrowed, sweat forming on her forehead, her hands began to tremble with the effort.

Arnbjorn saw what it was costing her and he gently took her hand off his shoulder. "That's fine, bit. I'm feeling much better." In truth, the pain began to return as soon as she stopped.

She frowned at him. "I'm not very good at that. I think if we do it a few times a day it will help heal you faster." She pulled some linen cloth out of her bag and began to tear it. "I brought some cloth for bandages, just in case." She carefully bound up his wound, trying not to hurt him as she did it. "There! How does it feel?"

"Fine."

She thought he was probably lying. He still looked a little pale. She put her hand on his forehead. It seemed all right to her. "Why don't you go lie down in the tent? Use my bedroll. I'll wake you when supper is ready."

"I'm not an invalid," he grumbled. "I'll take care of Shadowmere."

Nessa set about making a stew out of some of the elk haunch they'd been carrying since they killed it the day before. The cool weather kept it fresh… mostly. They might be able to eat off it another day before they'd have to abandon it to scavengers. They had dried, salted meat, but as long as fresh meat was so easily acquired they hadn't had to resort to it.

She made a passable stew but Arnbjorn didn't eat much. She noticed his eye lids were drooping and he was staring vacantly into the fire. "Arnbjorn, are you all right?"

"Just a little tired, is all."

That was all she needed to know he was doing poorly. Arnbjorn would never admit to being tired. She put her stew aside and stood up. "All right, come on. You need some sleep. Take my bedroll."

He stood up, groaning as he did. "No, that's not necessary. I'll sleep as a wolf."

"No. Your bandages will come off." She gave him a little shove toward the tent.

He didn't protest or argue any further, another indication of how poorly he felt. He let her get him into her bedroll and she covered him with all their furs. He was exhausted, he had to admit. He felt a bone-deep weariness he couldn't remember having felt before. "Where will you sleep?" he asked her, his voice thick with drowsiness.

"Don't worry about it, woof. Just get some good sleep tonight so you'll be better in the morning." She reached out again with her hand and touched his forehead, pushing away his white hair. _Does he have a fever?_ He felt warm to her, but her hands were cold. She was worried about his lack of appetite and sudden lassitude.

Her first thought was what Astrid would say if Arnbjorn should die, but then she realized that it wasn't her primary concern. Arnbjorn had been kind to her, protective even. Oh, he made fun of her and could be gruff, but he wasn't all bad. Her hand lingered on his forehead a moment. She thought he'd fallen asleep so she took her time to really look at his face. He was rather shaggy with his long hair and beard, but it suited him.

His hand sudden reached up and closed around hers, his eyes cracked open a little. "Hmmm tidbit, having second thoughts about Nord men?" A little smile played on his lips. He wasn't so exhausted he couldn't tease her a little.

She pulled her hand away. "Don't be stupid. I was just checking your temperature."

He chuckled weakly. "It's much warmer a few feet lower."

She pulled away and scowled at him. "Check your own temperature, then." She withdrew hastily from the tent but not before she heard him laughing again.

She took care of the little things they did around the camp each day. Shadowmere was left to roam free. He always came back when Arnbjorn whistled. She sat by the fire and wrapped herself in the horse's blanket. It began to get fiercely cold a few hours after sunset and the fire was dying down. She finally retreated to the tent.

She carefully reached for Arnbjorn in the little light coming into the tent from the fire. This time she was sure he was sound asleep. She'd never seen him sleep as a man. He looked younger with his face relaxed. If he trimmed his facial hair she thought he might be in his early thirties.

His forehead was warmer under her hand, this time. That was no good. His body must be fighting an infection. She found a pair of healing tonics in her pack and crawled over to the bedroll. "Arnbjorn," she said his name softly and touched him.

His eyes opened slowly as he emerged from a deep sleep. He turned his face to the voice. "Morsel. What is it?" He tried to focus on her but she looked blurred.

"You need to drink this tonic," she said, helping him sit up, careful to avoid touching his wounded shoulder.

He drank the tonic and wiped his lips off. "It's gone bad, hasn't it?"

"Maybe not. I'll see it in the morning when there's light." Her voice held more confidence than she had.

"Wolves heal fast, bit." _How late is it? _Nessa was still up. Was she planning to stay up all night? She had the horse's blanket, he could smell it. Of course, she wouldn't think of sharing the bedroll with him. Inviting her would just frighten her off. "But we wolves heal faster if we're very warm."

Nessa looked at her only source of warmth for the night, the horse blanket. She grew up in the cold and was used to it, but to give up her last remaining blanket might be the end of her.

Arnbjorn pretended to shiver. "I think I've taken a chill." A small lie, perhaps, but it might allow the girl to swallow her pride and sleep where it was warm. "I think it would be best if we shared the bedroll. Your body heat would help."

She hesitated. Certainly he had a point and if she didn't do her utmost to see him better… he could die. She'd seen strong men brought low by infections. They would waste away with fever and end up looking like old, old men before their time. That was, if they even survived. She didn't want that to happen to Arnbjorn.

"Of course," she said. She slipped off her leather armor and slid between the blankets as he held them open for her. She settled into the bedroll grateful for the warmth. _Gods, he's like a furnace._It was difficult to imagine how someone who radiated so much heat could be cold. She turned with her back to him, trying to maintain at least a little distance between their bodies. "Is that better?" she asked.

"Aye, bit." He smiled into the dark. "Much, much better."

_~o~o~o~_

It was the tickling that woke him. He opened his eyes to find a lock of fair hair had escaped a braid and was tickling his nose. For a moment he forgot where he was. He stretched, pulling the woman next to him closer. Her backside was pressed against his groin. _Astrid, _he thought. His senses said otherwise. She smelled and Astrid didn't. She was warm… so warm, where Astrid's skin was always cool. He liked her smell. It was a little like the floor of a forest, thick with pine needles and decaying leaves. There was just a hint of - He buried his nose into the juncture of her neck and shoulder and breathed it in – rosemary and mountain flower. Over that was the tang of perspiration. She smelled human, and female. Waking up beside another woman, not Astrid… it seemed he had crossed a boundary in his marriage.

His hand rested on her stomach. He could feel her rhythmic breaths and sensed she was still deeply asleep. Her shirt had hiked up in the night so his hand rested on bare flesh. So tempting to draw his hand up a little, but he wouldn't. There was already the issue of his morning erection pressing into her backside. It didn't seem to fade as quickly as it should. It was her scent. Damn his lupine senses.

He diverted his attention away from the girl and took stock of his shoulder. His story hadn't been an entire lie. He did heal quickly, but today his shoulder only ached and that was beyond his expectations. Nessa must have some talent as a healer. He sat up and when Nessa didn't awaken he covered her in their furs and went out of the tent.

Nessa awoke slowly. _Gods_, she had slept soundly. She turned her head looking for Arnbjorn but he was gone. She was struck with a moment of panic. Perhaps he'd wandered off in a delirium; certainly he hadn't been in any condition to get out of bed. She sat up quickly and dashed out of the tent. There was a fire going and a pot of water hanging over it, heating. Shadowmere was nearby and looked content.

"Where's the woof, Shadowmere?" she asked, not really expecting an answer, but the horse turn its head away from her, to the east, and nickered. Nessa thought it was worth investigating in that direction. That was where she'd found a pond the night before. She picked her way through the woods and heard splashing as she neared the pond.

"Good morning, tidbit. Sleep well?" Arnbjorn greeted her as he splashed himself with cold water. He had removed the bandages and left them in the crotch of a tree.

She looked at him in amazement. Opened her mouth to scold him for being out of bed, but realized his wound looked almost healed. She splashed into the cold water. "Let me see it."

For once she didn't scold him for being naked. He turned his back to her and stooped down so she could see his shoulder. "See? Much better. I told you wolves heal fast."

"Kynareth's love, woof. That is amazing. It has nearly closed and I don't see any sign of infection." She grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him toward a boulder. "But all the same, it needs more healing." She pointed at the boulder. "Sit."

He sat while she placed her hands over the wound. Again, that sweet feeling seeped into his body, sweeping away all aches and pains. "It wasn't all me, you know. I don't normally heal _that_ fast. You did a lot."

She didn't answer him; she was concentrating on the magic. She could see some of the angry redness fading from his skin. When her hands began to tremble, she stopped and inspected the wound again. It did look better, she could see it now. "Do you feel good enough to travel today?" she asked.

He stood up from the boulder gladly; it had been freezing his ass. "Yes. I won't be running with Shadowmere though. We could both use a bath though, no?"

"Yes. I'll bathe when you're done." She turned to walk out of the water, going back to camp to collect her armor and a clean set of underclothes.

"Still acting the virgin, huh? I hate to tell you this, bit, I've seen you naked a time or two and one of those times you were in bed with my wife." He strode through the water and caught her, picking her up easily despite the ache in his shoulder.

"Arnbjorn put me down!" She squirmed, trying to get free but he didn't let go. She didn't want to hurt his shoulder so she stopped struggling. Then there was the moment when she realized that she liked his arms around her. Her brows furrowed and she looked up into his face.

He looked down at her and noted her expression, half angry, half confused. When the water reached his waist he stopped. "I owe you thanks for healing me, bit." She wasn't struggling. She just looked more confused as he brought his lips to hers and kissed her softly. She stiffened in his arms a moment, like she might pull away, but she didn't. He broke off the kiss after a moment."But since you shot me in the first place…" He opened his arms and dropped her into the icy waters. Her shriek was cut short as the water swallowed her.

She surged up from the water and emerged dripping water from her braids. "Ooooh! You are a mean, nasty woof!" She began slog through the water toward him, her arms reaching to grab hold of him. He laughed and backed away, but he wasn't quite fast enough. She pounced on him and dunked him under the water. "I hope you have gills, woof," she said.

Catching her wrists in his hands, he pulled her down with him and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pushed back up to the surface with her struggling to get free. "A truce, morsel." He laughed as she tried to struggle. "Let's declare a truce so that we can get bathed and back on the road, eh? Astrid won't be very happy with either one of us if we drown each other."

"All right. I agree to a truce," she said.

He let go of her wrists, but watched her warily. For her part, she watched him just as carefully. Then she turned away and peeled off her wet undershirt.

Arnbjorn laughed. "Ah, you just never quit, do you?"

She turned around and threw her sodden undershirt at him. "I think you're fixated on nakedness."

"Nakedness-a, perhaps," he said, making a joke of her comment.

She bent and pulled off her the light cotton trousers she wore under her leather armor, ignoring his lewd remark. Arnbjorn's behavior was confusing. Why did he kiss her? He'd always seemed totally devoted to Astrid even when she'd been openly unfaithful to him. She scrubbed herself with handfuls of sand, wishing she had some soap with her, but it was back at the camp. Her thoughts whirled. Even now he was scrubbing himself with sand and watching her, she noted through carefully stolen glances at him.

"Get my back, please." He closed the distance to her and presented his back to her.

She scooped up a handful of sand from the bottom of the pond and scrubbed his back, avoiding the angry wound her arrow had made yesterday. Her hands glided over the muscular back rubbing in the sand to scrub away dirt and sweat. This was something she'd stolen glances at but hadn't ever had a chance to examine up close. She had to admit he was… impressive. "There," she said and dropped the last handful of sand.

"Turn around, bit, I'll get yours." He reached below the water for some sand.

She hesitated a moment and nearly rejected his offer. She could read the bemused look on his face. He would certainly ridicule her if she said no. It was a practical matter, she decided. Unless one could bend themselves like a kringla, washing your own back thoroughly was unlikely to happen. She turned slowly and waited. His hands were large and strong, yet gentle as they rubbed sand into her back. He gripped one shoulder and his fingers rested lightly on her collar bone as he scrubbed her back.

He stopped a moment and filled his hands with water and sluiced off the sand and dirt, leaving her skin glowing pinkly. "There you are, little morsel. I hope I wasn't too brutish."

She pulled away from him. "Thank you," she said tersely.

She climbed out of the pond and could hear Arnbjorn following behind her. Unfortunately the banks of the pond were muddy, so her feet were mucky by the time she reached their camp. At least Arnbjorn had made a fire that morning so they could warm themselves as they dried off.

"Just think, bit, day after tomorrow we should be in Rorikstead. There's a fine inn there. We'll have a soft bed, good hot food, and hot baths as well." He dried himself off and put on fresh underclothes and then his leather armor.

"A hot bath sounds very good, especially if it snows." Looking at the sky, it held that flat gray look it got before a storm and there was a sharpness to the air that promised to turn even sharper. The further north they went, the more likely they were to get into snow storms, especially as their road went through some mountain passes.

"All the more reason to ride double, then. We can keep each other warm." He began gathering up their gear and dismantling the tent, all the while talking about how good the food at the Rorikstead inn would be. "Stollen, kringla, roast mutton, and fresh baked bread, tidbit. You'd best eat well while we're there, the next inn is at Karthwasten which is two days journey. Their inn is shabby, at best. After that is Dragon Bridge and another two days and will see us in Solitude."

They finished disassembling camp and packed their gear on Shadowmere. Arnbjorn sat behind Nessa again, this time he kept his arm wrapped around her waist the entire day.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Friendly fire just had to happen. If you haven't played Skyrim, there are a number of companions you can travel with, and sometimes even marry. They're all great, but tend to get themselves killed as they run in front of your magic or archery. So, I brought that little element from the game into the story. Once I married Vilkas, another werewolf in-game, and he got so mad at me with my friendly fire he actually turned hostile toward me! Yikes! Reloaded that game. _

_I really had no intention of writing so much for this chapter, but I couldn't find a good stopping point. _

_Thanks so much for the reviews, the favoriting and putting my story on your alert lists. If you'd like a response to a review, please log in first. I really love getting your feedback. My thanks to Zevgirl and Biff Mclaughlin for their friendship and ideas. _

_Oh yes, kringla are a Nordic pastry that look like pretzels. Stollen is a bread-like fruit cake. I think they eat it around the Christmas season._

_Thank you for reading!_


	13. Chapter 13

**_Rorikstead_**

"Wait here, morsel. Rorikstead is just down this hill." Arnbjorn jumped off Shadowmere's back and began to remove his clothes. "Look at all the solders down there. Something is up."

"Don't you think they would object to a wolf slinking around? They might figure you're responsible for carrying off chickens or… lambs and kill you." Nessa jumped off the horse. "Why don't you let me go see what's up? I'm quite stealthy and if I get caught I can make up some story."

Arnbjorn looked up from unfastening his laces. "Because you're our secret weapon, Nessa. We don't want your face to be recognized. Particularly if those are Imperials, and I suspect they are."

She watched him undress, forcing herself not to look away. "Be careful, Arn."

Arnbjorn turned to look at her, she looked genuinely concerned. "I will be, bit. A kiss for luck?"

"A kiss?" she asked, her cheeks turning pink.

"Aye, for luck."

"I suppose. For luck." She drew closer to him, trying to forget the naked man she was about to kiss was Astrid's husband. She pursed her lips and bussed him on the cheek, right next to his mouth.

He growled and wrapped an arm around her waist, firmly planting his lips on hers. He was in danger of proving her right in her assessment of Nord men, so he let her go nearly as suddenly as he had seized her. "I'm sure my wife taught you better than that. She'd be disappointed to know her lessons didn't take. Ah well." He shrugged and turned away, about to transform into a wolf, but she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Woof, I can kiss better than that, it's just that… Why do you even want to kiss me? I thought you loved your wife."

"Ah, bit, that's good to hear. We can discuss the whys later. Do you want to try again, or should I go face whatever fate has in store for me unkissed?"

She frowned at him and drew nearer. He didn't come closer this time; he made her initiate the kiss. She closed her eyes and kissed him gently at first. Over the course of this week of traveling together her curiosity had grown. Astrid had been with him for ten years, there must be a reason why. Why did he seem interested in her? Why had his arm, and then both arms, snaked around her as they rode on Shadowmere? It had become clear that it wasn't just the sudden cold weather as they traveled through the higher elevations.

So she really kissed him, like she'd kissed Astrid. Softly at first, then her tongue tentatively exploring his lip, finally she took his bottom lip into her mouth and let it pass through her teeth. He made a soft noise and one arm went around her waist, his other hand splayed over the back of her neck. He was gentle, restrained even, but she could sense he was holding back. He pulled her tighter to him and opened his mouth, deepening the kiss. She leaned into him and her hands crept up to his hair and she entwined her fingers in his white mane.

Then it was her that made a little noise. She hadn't meant to, it just escaped without permission. That made Arnbjorn chuckle, a deep sound that rumbled through him like a saber cat purring.

She pulled her head back just enough to break the kiss although their lips were barely separated. "Do you approve this time?"

He smiled at her and pecked her on the forehead. "I do, bit. I do." He let go of her and stepped away. "Take Shadowmere and hide in the trees off the road. I'll be back as soon as I figure out what's going on."

Nessa watched him transform into a wolf and grimaced again at the painful contortions. The wolf turned to look at her with something almost like a smile on his muzzle. He barked once and ran off through the woods along the road.

That kiss had been sweet. The wolf mulled over markedly unlupine thoughts of the human girl as he skulked into the village of Rorikstead, just after sunset. He had always understood the source of his wife's obsession with Nessa. She thought of Nessa as herself when she was younger, younger even than Nessa, and far less worldly. There was something rather vain in that attraction, like looking in a mirror and making love to a younger version of yourself.

This time together was his plan to see if, perhaps, he and Nessa together could win back Astrid, but first he had to see if they could bond. If they couldn't come together as lovers, then there was little hope they could sell the idea to Astrid. He had warmed to the idea over the course of the trip. Nessa had been shy and tentative at first, but lately she'd been speaking her mind more freely. He enjoyed seeing her confidence growing and didn't mind the occasional barbed comment she delivered. Astrid may be in love with her sweetness and innocence, but he found himself drawn to the woman she was becoming. There was that, and then there was her scent. Her very pores exuded a perfume that was entirely her own. That was an import factor for him. Sometimes Astrid teased him that he lived life through his nose and he supposed it was true. Sometimes it took all his self-control to refrain from sniffing her inappropriately.

_I'd be a man with two wives, _he thought and then he realized that was probably the wrong way to describe such a relationship. It would be more like Astrid had both a wife and a husband. He grinned wolfishly at the thought. There was no question who the dominant partner in their relationship would be; Astrid would be in charge, as always.

Arnbjorn carefully kept to the shadows and crept about the outside of the inn until he saw a pair of soldiers weaving unsteadily as they made their way to the outhouse.

"Captain Valentius says we'll finally see some action. They've found a Stormcloak camp not far from Falkreath."

_Captain Valentius? _That was one of the Imperials they were contracted to kill in Solitude. Apparently he was on the move. Still, Valentius wasn't that unusual of a name for an Imperial. They couldn't assume it was their target.

"Shut up, idiot!" the other soldier said. "We don't need to announce our plans. This place is crawling with Nords. The Eight only know how many are rebel sympathizers."

Arnbjorn slunk away from the inn and sat down to ponder. The Valentius they were looking for was a brash, young officer, who was used to having his way. He was the spoiled son of nobility and quite used to getting what he wanted. Perhaps if he sent Nessa ahead to the inn, especially if it seemed the Imperials were in their cups tonight. A little bit of her shy flirting and she might attract the attention of the young, cocky captain… A plan began to take shape.

_~o~o~o~_

Nessa paced. It was ridiculous to worry. Arnbjorn was an experienced assassin and he'd lived as a werewolf for a long time; surely he knew the dangers better than she did. She paused in her pacing and took a deep breath and let her muscles relax. _That's better._

_But what if some dog gets wind of him and starts to bark. They'll investigate. _She began imagining angry farmers and guardsmen with bows. Not all of them were such terrible archers. _One lucky shot… _She began to picture Arnbjorn pierced with an arrow, not one of her own. They'd descend on him. _A swift slash from a bastard sword..._

She began to pace again.

She caught herself again and forced herself to stop and breathe. Since when had she become such a worrier? If anything happened to Arnbjorn, she would feel responsible. She'd already accidentally shot him and she still felt guilt over that. It was foolish for him to go alone. It was too dangerous. The images played through her mind again.

She brushed her fingers across her lips, thinking of the kiss. There was a roughness to him, as she had said Nord men had, but he seemed to temper it with restraint. Those massive arms of his could break her in half, but they'd been a comforting, safe presence around her waist as they rode. Just has his body heat had warmed her through the cold, snowy mountain passes. She may have been hasty in painting all Nord men with the same brush. Yes, he was rough, but he had a gentle side, and his roughness suited him.

_Does he want me… like, well… that? _Maybe he was just toying with her, teasing her into betraying something. _But what? _She had no secrets. Her thoughts spun again and she started to pace.

Shadowmere came to stand closer to her and watched her. His intelligent red eyes glinted unnaturally in the dark

"Should I go after him, Shadowmere?" she asked the horse.

The horse bobbed his head. The girl was annoying him with her pacing. She should go find her mate.

Nessa stared at the horse for a moment then grabbed his muzzle and kissed him on the nose. "Of course. Thank you for pointing out the obvious, boy." She was already dressed in the soft, supple leather armor favored by the assassins so she wouldn't need to change. She followed the road, but staying well off it, to the village. She had barely left the area when a white ice wolf trotted up to her and grabbed he hem of her tunic in his mouth and tugged her back.

As she watched, he transformed into a human. "I told you to wait," he growled, barely above a whisper. "This place is crawling with Imperials."

She nodded. "I'm sorry. I was worried. And the horse…" she trailed off realizing how stupid it would sound to say the horse told her to follow him.

Arnbjorn barked out a short laugh. "Ah, don't blame it on Shadowmere, girl." He clasped her briefly with one arm and kissed her on the forehead. "I'm touched you were concerned, but you needn't be." He led her back to where the horse stood patiently. "It may well be that our first target is right here, in Rorikstead. I heard them talking about a Captain Valentius but it isn't an unusual Imperial name, we'll have to confirm. That's where you come in."

Nessa cocked her head and looked at him curiously. "All right, what do I need to do?"

"The officers are staying at the inn and, from the looks of it, they're in their cups tonight. You go down there and confirm if this is our man, or not. I'll give you some time to figure it out and try to capture his attention. I will show up later and play the jealous husband. No one will suspect a thing if he dies in a duel over a woman." He untied their packs from Shadowmere. "Leave your weapons and change into something nice."

"Hmmm… I should take a bath, and my dress is going to be wrinkled from being in my bag." She pulled out the blue dress she'd bought in Whiterun and inspected it in the dim light.

"No time for a bath, you smell just fine." Arnbjorn's fingers deftly found the clasps on her leather cuirass and began to unfasten it. "Remember, bit, we're a not-so-happily married couple. We need to be convincing, eh? You carry on with that Imperial captain, and I'll take things from there." He helped her out of the armor, long used to undressing his wife in just such a manner.

She put on her dress and slung her pack over her shoulder. "Do I look all right?"

"Like a wife running away from her brutish husband, I think." He smiled at her and tweaked one of her braids.

She smiled up at him. "I'm sorry about what I said about all Nord men being brutes. There might be one or two exceptions."

He chuckled at her. "It's nice to know you don't think I am one of them."

"Oh no, you are most definitely brutish," she said laughing. "But there's probably a few out there that aren't." She swung the pack over her should and headed for the road. She looked back and waved merrily at him and then ran down the road toward Rorikstead.

_~o~o~o~_

The Imperial soldiers were a blessing and a curse for the innkeeper. A blessing, because they paid with handfuls of gold, a curse because his larder was emptying out quickly. When the Nord girl slipped into his inn, he watched her walk the gauntlet past tables and chairs filled with Imperials. A few reached out to grab her, but she skittered away and looked daggers at them. She was pretty, young… and trouble. This was a very bad time for a woman alone to wander into town. It'd be best for all of them if he got rid of her as quickly as possible.

"Sorry, miss, the inn is completely full. Haven't got a room to let," he said when she got close enough to hear.

She dropped her satchel and looked around. "Please, sir. I'm in a spot of trouble. I'll sleep in the stable, if I must. I can pay!"

"Nothing I can do, miss. Sorry. Full up. Best you go elsewhere."

One of the soldiers stood up and came closer. "You haven't got anywhere for the lady? Not even an unused bed in the basement?"

Nessa looked at him gratefully. "I don't mind sleeping in the basement, or the stables. I just need a safe place for the night." She looked down at her feet. "I don't think I could walk another step."

The innkeeper shook his head. "Got skeevers in the basement, lass. Now you best leave. The Imperial army is here and there isn't a spot free in Rorikstead."

Nessa's bottom lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. "All right. Maybe I can find a barn somewhere. But I will have my supper here. I have good coin and I can pay for it. I'm not asking for charity."

"Of course, my dear," the soldier put his hand on Nessa's shoulder and picked up her bag with the other. "In fact, the Imperial army will buy your supper tonight." He pulled her over to a table with eight other soldiers. "Innkeeper, bring the lady some food and ale. Charge it to Titus Mede's account."

"Yes, sir," the innkeeper said reluctantly. He hurried off to find more food and drink for yet another mouth.

Nessa looked around shyly as she sat at the table filled with soldiers. "Thank you, sir. I am in your debt. I thought I would faint of hunger. I have been walking all day with not a bite to eat."

At the far end of the table a soldier sat looking somewhat more authoritative than the others around him. His uniform was fancier and the sword he had propped up against the table was highly ornamented. Nessa judged that he might the captain they were looking for. He had the dark hair and dark eyes and cleft in his chin. He was actually quite a dashing figure. She stole a few shy glances at him and quickly looked away when he finally looked at her.

"What's your name, lass?" the man who rescued her asked.

"My name is Nessa, sir. I'm from Falkreath, originally. May I inquire as to your name?" she asked politely, trying to shift attention from those little details.

"I am Anton, Lieutenant Anton, originally from High Rock, but visiting your fair country of late." He smiled at her.

The innkeeper delivered her meal and ale. She set to it with gusto, trying to look as hungry as she claimed to be. "Thank you again, Anton."

The man at the end of the table watched her talk to Anton and waved over the innkeeper. "Keep the ale coming, man. The emperor is paying for this and I'll see we get our money's worth."

"Yes, Captain. Right away."

Nessa's ears caught the reference to the man's rank. It was certainly looking like he might be their target. She concentrated on her food but stole a sidewise look at him from time to time. When he noticed, she blushed and focused on her food.

"Girl," the captain drawled, "what brings you to Rorikstead? Surely it's dangerous to travel alone. This country is crawling with brigands and traveling minstrels."

She dropped her spoon and hesitantly turned to look at him. "I left my husband, sir. He has a terrible temper and I feared him more than any bandits."

"Goodness, my dear," the captain said, a solicitous smile spreading on his face. "He must be fearsome." He stood up and walked down the table and, in response to a curt head gesture, the soldier sitting on Nessa's other side got up. The captain sat down next to her. "Tell me what happened to make your husband so angry with you."

Shrugging, Nessa picked up her spoon and traced it through her stew thoughtfully. "What doesn't anger him, sir? He might beat me if his meat is too cooked, or not cooked enough. I might have my eye blackened if my hair isn't fixed right or, if it is, he might hit me because I must be trying hard to look nice for someone else. This time though…" She looked up at the captain and blinked her eyes quickly as if blinking away tears. "This time, though, he noticed me talking to the shopkeeper who buys eggs from me." She dropped her spoon again and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shook. "He saw me kiss him."

"Ah, so perhaps he has reason to be jealous?" the captain said.

"The shopkeeper was going to help me escape him, I just kissed him – 'Twas a chaste kiss, I swear it! – to thank him for his help." She sobbed noisily into her hands. "My husband grabbed his big axe and ran after the shopkeeper. I just ran the other direction and I haven't stopped running. He will kill me if he catches me!"

The captain put his hand on Nessa's shoulder and leaned in close. "Don't cry, my sweet. It will make your eyes red and puffy and you're far too lovely to be sad. With the Imperial army here, you will be safe, I swear it on my honor as a captain of the Imperium."

Nessa took a deep breath and looked up from her hands, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. She'd managed to bring forth some from thinking of Astrid and the terrible day she told them they were through. She needed this foppish soldier's name. If this was Valentius, then all was well, if not she was flirting with the wrong man and that could be a disaster.

"Sir, I would thank you, but I don't even know the name of my benefactor." She rubbed away a little tear as it slid down her cheek.

"I am Captain Valentius, in charge of the cavalry of the fifth division." He picked up Nessa's hand and bowed over it, kissing her knuckles. "And at your service, my dear." She was a simple country girl and such gestures were nearly guaranteed to land her in his bed… almost without effort.

The serving girl came by and poured more ale for both of them.

"Bring some brandy, girl," the captain ordered her. "My lady here needs something a little more warming."

Nessa flushed and took a few more bites of her stew. "You are very kind, Captain Valentius," she said quietly, her eyelids fluttering up to peer at him shyly. Now that she was certain he was her target, she needed to push things. She had no idea how long before Arnbjorn would show up. It would help for him to find them doing something worthy of his rage. "I can't tell you how very grateful I am, sir."

A pleased hum came from him. He could think of a number of ways. "A chaste kiss like you gave the shopkeeper would be all the thanks I require." _For now. _The army would be on the move tomorrow, perhaps he'd take this girl along with them. She would be a welcome change from the usual whores that trailed after the division.

When the serving girl came back with brandy and two glasses he poured some for them both, a more generous portion for her. "Here you are, child. What did you say your name was?"

She looked down shyly. "I'm Nessa, sir." Then she turned her gaze back to him, blue eyes wide. "I don't normally drink strong spirits. I probably shouldn't." At least it wasn't a lie. Nessa had little tolerance for strong drink and she wanted to stay alert.

"Nonsense, my sweet. This is not strong liquor. Take a sip." He held her cup to her lips and tilted it slightly. A bit of the brandy ran into her mouth. It was sweet, made from snowberries and sugar, but it was strong as well.

Nessa ran her tongue lightly across her lip and made a soft noise of approval. "It tastes a bit like snowberry pie." She took the glass from the captain's hand, her fingers touching his a little shyly, but with intent. She took another sip. "Yes, that is warming." The captain was lying, of course. The liquor was very strong.

"Now, as to that kiss, little Nessa…" He moved closer to her on the bench. Actually, Nessa wasn't little at all. She was as tall, perhaps a bit more, as a typical Nord woman. Her figure was slight and willowy, suggestive of her youth. He was attracted by her shy, simple ways. Legate Mallus would be mauve with envy. He'd done nothing but complain all the way to Dragon Bridge about the slatterns following along behind the division. Although… now that he thought of it, perhaps he should present the girl to the Legate, that might actually advance his career, whereas flaunting her in front of his superior... that wasn't his best idea. Well, that's what he'd do then. When the legate joined the division, he'd send him the girl. In the meantime, he could make certain she was adequate to the task of entertaining such an important man.

Nessa blushed and hesitated. "Captain Valentius, if my husband should see such a thing… He is a very jealous man. I would fear for your life."

Valentius pulled himself up with a disdainful sniff. "Madam, I am an officer of the Imperial Legion. My training in swordsmanship is second to none. My family saw to it that I had the finest weapons and instructions in all Cyrodiil. You need not fear for me. I'm sure I can defeat a farmer, no matter how large his axe."

Inwardly Nessa was laughing, but she schooled her expression to be a look of shy admiration. "Is that your weapon, sir?" She pointed to the sword dangling from the belt at his waist. "It seems so small next to the great axe my husband wields." She eyed it dubiously.

Bristling at the comparison, Valentius drew his sword and presented it to the woman, hilt first. "Take it, my dear. Feel its heft. This is no lady's toy, but rest assured that a sword like this is a weapon to be used with skill and swiftness. While your husband is hefting his axe with two hands, I will be already skewering him with my sword."

Nessa didn't bother to tell him she'd seen Arnbjorn wielding his enormous axe with one hand and moving quicker than most swordsmen. It would be much better if the officer underestimated him. Better yet if he was slightly drunk.

The captain took back his sword and resheathed it. "Now, back to that kiss. Where did this shopkeeper kiss you?"

Nessa was enjoying the game of pretending to be more innocent than she actually was. Astrid was right about that. Not all that long ago she probably would have said something this ridiculous: "In his shop." She took another sip of the brandy. It really was quite tasty.

Smiling at the girl Valentius tossed back his glass of brandy and poured himself another. "Stuff 's good. I have to hand it to you Nords. You make a good brandy." He took another good sized swallow and leaned forward. "Now, why don't you kiss me like you kissed that shopkeeper, hm?"

Biting her lip, she looked down at her hands and smiled. The captain reached out and lifted her chin with his fingers.

"Don't be shy, Nessa," he said, his voice was kind and encouraging.

She leaned toward him and planted a quick kiss on his check and then retreated to her own space.

Valentius laughed. The girl was going to take some work, but it was a job he would enjoy. "My sweet, that can barely even be called a kiss. Your husband must be a monster to take affront from such an innocent peck."

Gratitude shone from Nessa's eyes. "I'm so glad you understand. The man is truly a brute. I never wanted to marry him." She picked up the captain's tumbler of brandy and handed it to him. "My parents made me. I should have run away."

The captain took another sip of his brandy. "Now, why don't you moisten those pretty lips with snowberry brandy and give me a proper kiss?"

She brought the glass to her lips and took another sip. The drink was strong and she was beginning to feel rather warm. She peered into the glass and then dipped her finger into it, painting the brandy on her lips. _Oops… that wasn't so innocent. _She looked at Valentius and realized he actually was a rather handsome man. Pity he had to die. Then she realized her thoughts were untrue to Astrid… but Astrid had sent her away. Her face showed the hesitancy and doubts she suddenly felt.

Valentius saw her hesitation and pulled her face to his. His lips met hers and he kissed her softly at first, but intensified the kiss quickly.

Nessa felt more invaded than seduced, but she returned the kiss inexpertly, playing her role to the hilt. She made a very soft sound and then pulled away from the captain. "Oh!" she said coyly. She took another sip from the brandy and felt it go right to her face and make her cheeks flush.

"Sweet girl," the captain said as he picked up her glass. "That was very nearly a proper kiss." He lifted Nessa's glass to her lips and tipped more liquor into her mouth as she opened her mouth. "Perhaps I can both teach you to kiss properly and make sure you have a comfortable bed to sleep in tonight, hm?"

Nessa nodded shyly, playing her part to the hilt and hoping that Arnbjorn would arrive soon. She was beginning to feel tipsy and the captain was starting to look even more handsome. He had a very nicely groomed mustache and his leather boots were very shiny black. He was slender, rather like the sword he wore, but tall for an Imperial, maybe even a little taller than she was.

"You can kiss me again," she said, "but I think I like snowberry kisses best." She picked up his glass and handed it to him, looking up at him from under her eyelashes.

He chuckled and took the glass from her, downing the remainder in a quick gulp. "Then a snowberry kiss you shall have." He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her body into his and this time there was no hesitation from him. The kiss was a full frontal assault on the fortress of the girl's mouth. He would conquer her just as his cavalry had defeated Ulfric's Nord rabble time and again. Indeed, she seemed to melt against him. A few more sallies like that one and she'd be waving her smallclothes as a flag of capitulation and agreeing to whatever terms of surrender he demanded.

He let go of her suddenly and she gasped for air. "Did you enjoy your snowberry kiss, my sweet?" The other officers were looking at the two of them, some quite enviously, others studiously ignoring them.

She nodded, not quite sure she was lying. "I'd like another one." She picked up the bottle of snowberry brandy and refilled his cup.

He took another deep drink from his cup. The brandy had lit a warm fire within him. He could handle his liquor, but he was starting to feel rather jolly. "I think I might like a snowberry kiss, too." He handed her glass to her. "Do your countrymen proud and drink the entire thing."

Nessa stared at her cup a moment and realized this would take her over the top. Granted, she didn't have to kill the captain herself, but getting drunk wasn't part of the plan. She took a sip but the captain tipped the cup up and she had to swallow quickly otherwise it would overflow her mouth. The sweet liquor burned as she swallowed it. When her glass was empty she slammed it down on the table gasping for breath. The liquor was swaddling her brain in a soft, warm fog.

"Sweet Talos!" she said, loud enough to draw dark looks from the Imperials. _Oh, gods damn my tongue! Did I just say that in a roomful of Imperial soldiers?_

Captain Valentius drew near to her. "Watch yourself, girl. You're lucky the Thalmor aren't here, but their spies everywhere." He leered at her. "I'd hate for them to arrest you just when I'm getting to know you better."

"Sorry," she whispered. "An old habit, I'm trying to break it." Distracting him from her mistake, she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. "You wanted a snowberry kiss, you said." This time she initiated the kiss. She pressed into him as her lips engaged his. She wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him as if she were kissing Astrid. He was nothing like Astrid, of course, but as the brandy burned in her veins she found herself enjoying it. His mustache tickled a little. She imagined for a moment that it was a white mustache, framing Arnbjorn's strong lips.

There was a clatter of hooves outside the inn and she thought she heard a familiar neighing. _Shadowmere! _She pulled the captain even deeper into her kiss and moaned. "I want you," she said, her breath hot against his ear, as she broke away a moment. _Just need a little more time._

"Then you shall have me, my dear," he whispered back, gloating in victory about his conquest. He kissed her once more, his hand working through her braids to grasp at her hair_. One more kiss to seal the deal and then…_

The door to the inn crashed open suddenly. "Where is my wife?" A deep, angry voice rang out. "Nessa! There you are, worthless whore." He strode across the inn to Nessa and grabbed her by the braids, pulling her to her feet. "I'll make you pay for this, woman. You give me an Imperial brat, I swear I'll drown you and it both."

Nessa shrieked, fearing her hair would tear out. Arnbjorn was terrifying. His face was a mask of rage like she'd never seen before. He let go of her hair long enough to slap her hard. Even so her face stung and she suspected she would have a bruise for a few days. She staggered up against the wall and held her cheek, cowering in fear as she imagined a defenseless woman would. _Did he have to slap me that hard?_

A dozen Imperial soldiers rose and laid their hands on their swords. Captain Valentius did too. "Unhand that woman, you Nord savage. She's under the protection of the Imperium now."

Arnbjorn barked out a fierce laugh. "This woman is my wife, you prancing Imperial. I'd like to see you stop me."

The Imperials advanced on Arnbjorn menacingly.

"Really," Arnbjorn said, laughing, "does it take all of you to stop a single Nord farmer from taking his rightful wife home?"

Ness looked desperately at Captain Valentius, her eyes begging him to intervene. "Please. I don't want to go with him."

Valentius swaggered up to Arnbjorn, walking not quite as crisply as he normally did. "I will challenge you for her." His voice was cold and precise. "Isn't that the way you people do it? You fight one another like rutting rams. Well, sir, I will fight you for her."

Arnbjorn sneered at him. "To the death?"

Valentius's blood was fired with lust for the girl, ambition, and snowberry brandy. The fellow was big, like all Nords, but big simply meant slow. Most likely he was ignorant and entirely untrained as well. It'd be a matter of a few moments and he'd run this brute through. "To the death," he said, agreeing.

"Captain Valentius…". Another Imperial soldier got up and spoke quietly to him. "Do you think this is wise? You've been drinking."

Valentius looked at the other soldier coolly. "Come, Lieutenant, the man is a farmer. I hardly think there's any cause for concern." He drew his sword. "Be my second, Casius."

Casius shrugged and nodded. "All right. Killing him now just means one less for Ulfric to recruit."

Arnbjorn snarled. "Come on, Imperial. Let's get on with it." He drew his axe off his back. He glanced quickly at Nessa and saw her cowering at the edge of the inn, shooting meaningful looks at the captain she'd been kissing. She was playing her part well.

"Not inside! Good sirs, please. I implore you, take your fight out of doors." The innkeeper rushed up, nearly interposing himself between the combatants, but decided against it when he saw the furious snarl on Arnbjorn's face and the cold, fury on the captain's.

The captain gestured at the soldier's standing, ready to seize the Nord at his command. "You men, bring torches. I'll put this savage down outside." He turned his back on Arnbjorn, showing his disregard for the Nord, and strode outside and stood in the middle of a clear area. He cut through the air a few times with his sword and limbered up.

Arnbjorn came next. Valentius noticed his lumbering, brutish gait and the inexpert way he seemed to carry his axe. He was a rube, indeed. A half dozen of his countrymen followed, and Casius, all holding torches so they could see well enough to fight. Even so, the moon was up high enough to light their way well enough. Finally, Nessa came out of the inn and stood by the door. Valentius smiled at her. She'd surely be grateful when he dispatched her husband. This night was turning out better than he'd hoped, all things considered. She clasped her hands together and he could see her lips move in a prayer. _How sweetly pious she is._

_May your gods take you, Valentius. May Talos guide you to victory, Arnbjorn_, she whispered to the gods, should they be listening.

"Are you ready, Nord?" the captain asked, standing with one hand on his hip and his sword in a neutral position before him.

The Nord growled something under his breath and for a moment the captain believed he saw a strange gleaming in the man's eyes. _A trick of the light_, he reassured himself.

"I am ready," Arnbjorn said.

"We fight!" Captain Valentius snapped his sword into the classic ready stance and slowly circled the Nord.

Arnbjorn made a scuffling feint with his feet and a low growl in his through. The Imperial overreacted, jumping back. He watched the ridiculous man with the skinny sword and it was all he could do to keep himself from laughing. He pulled his axe back to the side and waited for the man. As he predicted, the Imperial tried to charge Arnbjorn, but the assassin quickly reversed his grip and with the hilt of the weapon blocked the attack.

"Well done," Valentius said. He danced out of the way as Arnbjorn cleaved the space where he had been standing a moment ago.

"Save your compliments for your gods, Imperial. You'll be meeting them tonight," Arnbjorn replied. He rushed at the captain and his axe met the sword as the captain tried to lunge at him. His axe swung up, catching the sword, and nearly pulling it from the man's grip, but the captain retreated a few steps and got his sword free. The Imperial was looking a little shaken by the attack.

Valentius was beginning to sweat and his breath was coming hard. This was not going as it should. How could a simple farmer move so quickly?

Arnbjorn saw the question and worry forming in the man's face. He needed to end this fight quickly before the captain voiced his objections. He moved again, a feint, but the captain over responded and slashed the air. It gave Arnbjorn enough time to slash midlevel. The Imperial failed to move quickly enough and the axe cut across his ribs.

Captain Valentius dropped his sword and looked down at his midsection in disbelief. He didn't have time to ponder his demise because Arnbjorn returned from that swing with another. This one connected with his neck and the captain's head rolled neatly from his shoulders, his body crumbling to the ground shortly after.

Nessa gave a little horrified scream. _Oh gods, why did he have to behead him?_ Her own neck ached in sympathy for the dead captain and the horror of Helgen closed in around her. Her display of horror at seeing a beheading just lent reality to the little part she needed to play.

Some of the Imperial soldiers gasped in horror as the captain died. A few went for their weapons, but Casius, the captain's second, held his hand up to them. "No men. It was fought fairly."

Some of the men protested, but none defied the lieutenant.

Glaring around him, waiting for someone to move on him, Arnbjorn paused a few moments before striding to the inn and grasping Nessa roughly by the arm. He whistled loudly and Shadowmere came galloping from out of the dark. He mounted Shadowmere and pulled her up roughly in front of him.

Arnbjorn had a tight hold on her, which was good as she felt quite wobbly. They thundered down the main road through Rorickstead, Shadowmere's feet loud against the hard packed road, but no one came after them. Just as they cleared the edge of the village she moaned. "Pull over, Arnbjorn!"

"What is it?" he asked.

She shook her head, unable to speak.

He barely got the horse stopped when she slithered off and ran to the edge of the road and vomited. The snowberry wine and the dinner came back up.

Arnbjorn ran after her and held back her braids as she threw up again. "You're sick? What's wrong?"

Feeling better after the second heave of her stomach she pulled herself upright and wobbled again, the world twisted around her. "Too much snowberry brandy and… Oh gods, you took his head off." The memory of his head rolling off his shoulders… the head with the mouth she'd just been kissing… She bent double, anticipating the need to vomit again, but nothing came up this time.

Arnbjorn stared at her, a look of bemusement growing on his expression. "Don't tell me you liked him?" The smell of snowberries assaulted Arnbjorn. "Gods, are you drunk, girl?"

She straightened up again and lurched against him, grabbing his grubby farmer's shirt with her hands to steady herself. "He kept making me drink it." She scowled up at her assassin brother and made a stern face like the Imperial. "Make your countrymen proud, Nessa, drink the whole thing," she said, mimicking the Imperial.

"Ah… I wish I had seen that," Arnbjorn said, wrapping an arm around Nessa to keep her steady. "You definitely seemed to be enjoying that kiss I interrupted." He laughed heartily. "The look on your face when I slammed open the door! It was certainly authentic." He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. "Well, done, bit. Sadly we can't stop in Rorickstead and enjoy their warm hospitality. There's a lady there that makes the best lamprey pies. We'll go on a little further tonight. There's an abandoned mine we can stay in." He gave her a skin of water so she could wash her mouth out.

"Good," Nessa said. "I don't think I can ride much further." She filled her mouth with water then spit it out.

Arnbjorn helped her back onto Shadowmere, more gently this time. He could see the outline of his hand on her cheek and he laid a finger against it carefully. "I'm sorry about that, tidbit. I had to make it look real."

She sighed and shook her head. "I know. I'll try some healing magic on it tomorrow, otherwise it's going to leave an ugly bruise."

Arnbjorn kicked Shadowmere into a comfortable canter and they rode for several more miles. Nessa dozed off, leaning against him. He held her tightly with one arm while the other arm held Shadowmere's reins. He woke her gently when they finally reached the mine. "We're here, morsel."

The world was still spinning as she slid off the horse. Her legs tangled under her and she fell into the dust on her behind. "Oof! I can't stand."

Arnbjorn laughed at her. "Serves you right for getting drunk. An assassin shouldn't get drunk on the job. Get up and find some torches so we can see our way into the mine."

Nessa got to her feet unsteadily. "You're still a mean, rude woof," she shot back at him. "Laughing at me. Shouldn't do that. Ordering me…." Her voice trailed off in a grumble. She tried to open the pack still strapped to Shadowmere, but her fingers couldn't figure out the fastening. "Blasted woof!" she cursed at him. "You did something to these packs. I can't open them now."

Tugging the saddle off the horse, Arnbjorn laughed at her. "You're too drunk, bit. Go sit, I'll find them."

"I'm not!" Arnbjorn was definitely getting on her nerves. Always barking orders at her and telling her she was doing everything wrong. She pushed herself away from the horse and stumbled over to him, ready to meet his rudeness head-on. "I won't have it any more." She jammed a finger into his chest and poked him repeatedly. "You're not to laugh at me or give me orders or… or… kiss me!"

Arnbjorn's brows rose with surprise as she delivered a drunken tongue-lashing. "All right," he said his voice calm and agreeable. "If you insist, I will kiss you." He pulled her to him and kissed her. She melted against him, her arms fastened around his neck and she pulled him to her hard. There was none of the shy hesitancy she'd always displayed before. The snowberry brandy seemed to have dissolved it. She pressed against him and her mouth opened, her tongue exploring his mouth. His hand skimmed down her back, feeling the way her body bent and curved sleekly, until it reached her bottom. He splayed his hand and cupped her sweet firm behind with one big hand. She moaned and shifted against him, as if trying to eliminate the last few fractions of an inch separating them.

"Whoa, bit," he said as her own hand began to snake its way under his shirt. He held her at arm's length and watched her features change from half-lidded sensuality to anger. "You're drunk." He abruptly turned away from her and went back to unloading Shadowmere.

"I'm…," she sputtered angrily, "I'm… Oh, that's just fine for you, isn't it?" She followed him around the horse and gave him an angry push, but that only made him chuckle. "You kiss me just so you can laugh at me, don't you? You think I'll fall for you and then you can toss me away." She shoved him again. "Maybe then the annoying girl who loves your wife will leave. That's what you want, isn't it?"

He caught her arms before she could shove him again. "No, Nessa, it isn't what I want." He sighed with exasperation. Nessa was apparently a belligerent drunk. "I don't want you to leave. I just don't want you to wake up in the morning regretting what you did while you were drunk… if you even remember it at all."

She pushed at him again, not convinced. He was beginning to get annoyed with her. "Bit! Settle down. I need to get our stuff." He grabbed her arms so she couldn't push him again. "Be a good girl and sit."

She slid out of his grasp and sat abruptly in the dust. "Sit down. You're drunk," she said, echoing his orders. It did feel good to sit. The world spun a little less violently. Lying down would be even better. She toppled over and pressed her cheek against the dirt. _Better… _

"Careful, boy, she's right underneath you." Arnbjorn wasn't too worried about Nessa passing out under the horse. He trusted that the horse wouldn't trample her or piss on her. "Just as well," he said to the horse. The horse bobbed his head as if agreeing that Nessa was an annoying drunk. He went back to unloading the horse and finally found the torches. He lit one and began carrying their gear into the mine. There was a door at the entrance to the mine, but he had the lock open in a matter of moments. He setup a little camp for them and started a fire. Next he went out to bring Nessa in.

She was still unconscious and Shadowmere was standing guard over her when he went out. The horse moved politely out of the way as Arnbjorn gathered her up and carried her into the mine. She woke up enough to say something unintelligible as he laid her out on her bedroll and pulled her dress off. He carefully took off her boots and woolen stockings. He considered for a moment, and then stripped off her small clothes. It couldn't be comfortable sleeping in them, he reasoned. He slept in the nude and so did Astrid.

He stood up and gazed down at her, wondering about the conversation they'd certainly have tomorrow. He could turn into a wolf and sleep on the floor next to her. Or he could ensure their conversation was even more interesting…

He grinned slyly and stripped his clothes off and lay down on the bedroll next to her. He laughed to himself and closed his eyes.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Sorry to leave it there. I really, really wanted to post something by today and I didn't want to hurry through the next part because it's going to be important. So, better to leave it here where an infinite number of possibilities can traipse through your minds. Hopefully I can update soon and at least resolve this. I'm also going to push this chapter out woefully unproofed. Otherwise I have to let it go another day or more. _

_My thanks to those of you that review! I really look forward to feedback of any sort. I also thank Biff and Zevgirl for their wonderful support and good humor. _

_A bit of a spoiler for those who haven't played yet: There's a reference to events in the game that take place before this story. Skyrim starts with your character, in this case Nessa, being carted to the village of Helgen by Imperials. She's been caught up in an ambush with Nord rebels including Ulfric, their leader. Presumably in your character's case, it has been a mistake but they don't much care. They're going to execute you regardless. The prisoners are unloaded and being beheaded one by one. Your character is laying his/her head on the chopping block ready to die when a dragon swoops down on the village. At that point you get to escape and start on your journey._

_Anyway, this is the reason Nessa gets upset – who wouldn't? – when she sees a beheading. She's perfectly fine with killing in almost every other way, but beheading really gets to her. Plus, it would squick out almost anyone to think the guy you were just macking on had his head rolling around on the ground. At least, that was going through my mind. _


	14. Chapter 14

**An Abandoned Mine**

"Do your countrymen proud, Nessa," Arnbjorn said. His smile was wicked with meaning. She drank the entire glass of snowberry wine and slammed it down on the table. It was sweet and had the tang of juniper berries. _Juniper berries? _A man sitting at the table had his back to her. He turned when she slammed her glass on the table. His mouth was covered with a dirty rag.

"Jarl Ulfric?" she asked.

He nodded mutely, his head hung forward as he slumped, but his eyes darted around as if he were looking for an escape. Picking up a knife and fork, he carved his meat.

_How will he eat it with a gag over his mouth?_

A horse thief sprinted through the inn only to die with an arrow in his back.

Jarl Ulfric looked at a chunk of meat on his fork and shook his head sorrowfully. Nessa felt pity for the man and tried to reach up to remove his gag, but her hands were tied.

_No. Talos, no! Not again. _

"Who are you?" a Nord dressed in Imperial armor asked her. He consulted his list and looked up at her confused.

"Ulfric can't eat," Nessa said. "He's going to starve."

"She's not on the list," the Nord told his commander.

"It doesn't matter, she goes to the block," the surly female Imperial said.

_Not again! Please… not again. _Nessa's eyes darted to Ulfric's and he shared a long, sad look with her, shaking his head in sympathy.

The Nords began lining up. Two long rows formed up and Nessa was the second in line in her row. She turned around and looked back. There must be hundreds, thousands even and she would be the second. Tears sprang to her eyes. _Astrid! She'll never know what became of me. I'll just disappear, like a pet kitten carried off by a cave bear. Maybe I can tell them to send my remains to her. She is the only person who loves me. _A terrible memory crossed her mind. _No, she doesn't love me. I will die unmourned._

The first Nord was called to the block and he practically skipped up to it and cheerfully laid his neck across it. The executioner raised his axe and…

Nessa looked away but she could still hear the sound of the axe cleaving through meat and into the block.

"Next!" The pitiless Imperial woman beckoned to her. "One less Nord whore to tempt away the good men of the Imperium," she said. Sneering, she gave Nessa a vicious shove toward the block when her feet dragged.

She looked up into the sky. It was completely blue. The Imperial kicked the backs of her knees to make her fall to them. It was all she could do to keep herself from sobbing. _Does Sovngarde await me? _She was no warrior, just a thief and now an assassin. Would she be a slave to Sithis for all eternity?

"Head on the block," the mean Imperial lady shouted.

She sucked in a deep breath and looked at the bloody block before her. It was covered in a fresh blood and bits of… something awful. "Could you clean it off first?" she asked the black-hooded headsman.

He shook his head and pointed at the block.

She looked at Ulfric, third in line, and he looked at her, his eyes still clouded with useless sorrow. She laid her head down, stretching her neck over the block, then, turning her eyes up they met the eyes of her executioner. _Amber. Those eyes! _The black mask covered his face but she could see a little of his mouth, it was framed by white hair. Pale hair also hung down the back of his neck. _Arnbjorn?_

He winked at her.

_Divines be praised, it is him! He's going to save me._

"Be ready," he mouthed soundlessly.

She nodded and tensed her legs, ready to spring away.

He raised the axe above her head and suddenly he changed into a dark eyed, dark haired Imperial. The sun glinted off the axe as it fell toward her neck.

~o~o~o~

Nessa sat bolt upright, her scream still ringing in her ears. Her heart felt like it might leap out of her chest. She began to scramble out of the bedroll, still immersed in the dream, trying to escape the furs that her legs were caught in.

"Bit?" Arnbjorn sat up and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. She tried to struggle briefly. He could feel her heart pounding against his arm. "What's wrong, Nessa?"

She turned and looked directly at him. Slowly the horror of the dream vanished and already the details were fading. She sagged against him and gave up trying to get away. "I dreamed of Helgen." She thought she was done with the dreams. They'd haunted her for weeks afterward but then stopped. Why was she having them now? "I used to dream about it a lot."

Arnbjorn recognized the look and fear-stink of a wounded mind that won't heal. He'd had his share of them, and he knew that thousand-yard stare. Astrid had pried those memories out of him, like digging a thorn deeply buried in his paw. But it hurt like hell; brought it all back fresh and bloody as the day it all happened. His mind bled all over again, but then he'd healed. "Tell me about it, bit," he said.

Nessa shook her head. "No use. It's over." She blinked and her eyes refocused on Arnbjorn. _He's in my bedroll! _She suddenly realized her head was throbbing from something other than the bad dream and there was a large gap in her memory. She gasped and tried to scrabble out of the bed again.

"Whoa, bit! Settle down. What's wrong?" Arnbjorn tightened his grasp on her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I… Why are you in my bedroll?" She could feel…_ him_ against her. _Gods! What will Astrid say?_

Arnbjorn smirked. "Why do you think I'm in your bedroll? Don't tell me you don't remember?"

Nessa's eyes narrowed as she tried to recollect. She remembered kissing, lots of kissing. Yes, she had kissed the Imperial captain. Then she remembered more kissing. "Oh, Talos," she sighed. Then she turned to face him, suddenly furious. "You took advantage of me! I was drunk." She tried to pull her arm free but Arnbjorn still had his arms over hers. The struggling made her head hurt even more.

He wasn't about to let go her now, he was sure she'd punch him. "Really, bit? You think I'd take advantage of you in your drunken state? You wound me. Besides, if we had made love, you'd know."

She stopped struggling and took an inventory of her body. Her head was pounding and her cheek hurt, but she didn't hurt anywhere else. After she'd slept with that soldier, she had hurt and there had been a nasty damp spot under her all night long. "I suppose so, I don't hurt down there."

"Hm. Your other lover must have been idiot, Nessa. Trust me, it might have hurt the first time as he broke your maidenhead, especially if you weren't ready. It won't the next time, if your lover is skilled." He loosened his grip on her and brushed his thumb back and forth over her waist. She relaxed a little, turning her head forward again. Her shoulder, and the juncture where it met her neck, was temptingly close. "And he is." He kissed her lightly at that spot and saw her give a little shiver in response.

"This can't happen, Arnbjorn. Astrid would kill us both. And… I still love her. This feels wrong." That last part was something of a lie. A part of her wanted to stay true to Astrid, even though she'd rejected her, but she couldn't deny she was attracted to Arnbjorn. Sitting like this, with his arms around her, she felt safe. The panic of the dream was long forgotten already and now she just wanted him to kiss her in that spot again.

One of Arnbjorn's hands let go of her waist and rose to her hair. He moved aside several of her braids and kissed another spot on her neck. She wasn't trying to escape him. "I love her too, bit, but neither of us can have her." He could smell the beginnings of her arousal. That was a smell he loved more than any other. If for no other reason, this was why he loved being a wolf.

Arnbjorn kissing her neck was distracting her. She should put a stop to this now. His mustache, so soft, dragged across her nape and then he nipped her ever so softly. "Stop," she whispered.

He let go of her, drawing his arms away and backing up from her. "As you wish. But do you really wish that?"

She turned around on the bedroll to face him, kneeling with the furs over her legs but her torso exposed to him. He'd seen her naked a few times, it never seemed to faze him and she'd grown very used to seeing him naked, it almost didn't seem noteworthy but for the fact she'd been wrapped in his arms a few moments ago. "Why are you doing this? You should hate me. I'm the reason for the problem between you and your wife, aren't I?"

"By that logic, shouldn't you hate me too, bit? We're both rivals for her affections. I know her better than you, though. I've always stood by her when she's had other lovers. Eventually her interest fades and she comes back to me."

"Why didn't it happen this time, Arnbjorn? Why did we both lose her?" It still made no sense to her.

"Because she loves you and she can't have you without killing you. It frustrates her. She likes being in charge and her feelings for you make her go out-of-control. So she'll deny she has feelings. And that, unfortunately, affects us both." Nessa looked so conflicted and confused; he had an overwhelming urge to wrap her back up in his arms.

"It _is_ my fault. I don't know how it happened, even. It wasn't my intent to take her from you." Her eyes began to redden and she blinked. "I thought you would hate me." Then she sniffed loudly and her face crumpled. "I'm so sorry, Arnbjorn. If there is anything I can do to put it right again I will do it." She began to cry in earnest, feeling the full weight of guilt for having broken up their marriage. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

"Shush, bit," Arnbjorn said, his voice was calm. He gathered her to him again. "I already told you, it isn't your fault."

His gentleness made her cry even harder. He shouldn't forgive her. It would be so much easier if he just hated her as she deserved. She buried her face against his shoulder and wept.

He patted her back and rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades with his hand, trying to soothe her. This was something he'd never done for Astrid. She was a pillar of steel. She wouldn't ever be this vulnerable for anyone. Not even him. It tugged at his emotions, to have a creature this emotionally delicate seeking comfort from him. He could understand why Astrid loved her. "Well, you see, bit, perhaps there is something we can do."

Nessa caught her mid-sob and pulled her face out of his chest. "What?" Her heart gave a painful twist in her chest. She had said she would do whatever he wanted to get Astrid to go back to him. That would close the door to Astrid forever. It was the right thing to do, though, and she would do it.

"The key to making Astrid happy is to give her whatever she wants, and what she wants is you."

Nessa looked confused. "But you said she'd kill me?"

He nodded. "Yes. But she won't kill me. For whatever reason, my werewolf blood protects me from losing myself to her completely. So, it's obvious isn't it, morsel?" He lifted her chin so she would look him directly in his eyes. "Don't you see it?"

She shook her head.

"She needs us both. She can't have you without me there to stop her from killing you." He looked at her intently. "I think perhaps the gods sport with us as if we were their private parts."

Nessa laughed through her tears at the joke. "You're serious, aren't you? Are you proposing that the three of us…together?"

The corner of his mouth twisted up, ever so slightly. "I am. I needed to see first if you and I could come to like one another enough to do this. I've answered that question for myself. Now you need to ask yourself if you could let this brutish Nord make love to you."

Nessa's eyes were huge in her face and her mouth was agape in amazement. "I…" Her brain refused to process any further speech. A moment ago she had promised Arnbjorn she'd do anything to help him get Astrid back, but this… This had never crossed her mind. _I promised. _"Do you think it will work? Will she agree to it?"

Arnbjorn shrugged. "I think there's a good chance it might. If she sees us together she might get a bit jealous."

Nessa's brow furrowed. "She won't kill us?"

"Not a chance. We're too useful as assassins, if nothing else. She's far too practical to waste our talent and training."

She sat still as a statue for a moment, her brain churning over this development. It was true, she liked Arnbjorn. Over the course of this week she even found herself attracted to him. More importantly, she had said she would do whatever she could. If becoming his lover was what it took, she would do it. She set her jaw stubbornly. "I will do it."

There was something stoic in the way Nessa said it, like she was preparing to lose a limb or suffer twenty lashes. "You don't _have_ to, bit." He shrugged. "I don't think it's going to work if we're not both completely at ease with the notion. Astrid won't be fooled."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This idea is new to me, Arnbjorn, it'll just take some time for me to get used to it. I do… like you. Even in _that way, _a little." She paused a moment and tossed away the fur covering her legs. "Should we… You know?"

Arnbjorn's eyebrows rose up his forehead and his eyes slowly traced over her body. She had a long smear of dirt on the side of her face from where she'd fallen asleep under the horse. The stink of fear from her dream was gone but there was no scent of arousal now. Now that she had made up her mind to it, he would take his time with her.

"Not yet," he said. There was regret with the words. He wasn't a seducer and subtlety wasn't his strength. A desirable woman offering her body was gratification best not delayed. A wolf mated when he could, but a man had to wait sometimes. It would be best, he knew, to continue what he'd been doing. Her mind was committed, but her heart wasn't.

Nessa looked puzzled. Hadn't this been what he had been hinting at for days? "I don't understand you, woof. A few minutes ago I thought you were trying to get what I just freely offered."

Arnbjorn's laughter was a low rumble. "Patience, bit." He said nothing more.

She sighed with irritation and stood up. Her headache throbbed with the movement and her stomach tossed a bit. She rubbed her face with her hand and it came away dirty. "What's on my face?"

"Dirt. You fell asleep under Shadowmere. I had to carry you to bed."

No wonder he turned her down, she thought. She was a mess. She didn't smell so good either. She rummaged through her pack and found her soap and some clean clothes, then stalked outside to find water and bathe.

_~o~o~o~_

When they resumed their journey Arnbjorn transformed and ran alongside the horse. It'd been the first time in days that he hadn't ridden with her on the horse and she found herself wondering why, now that they'd agreed to become lovers, he was staying away. Even though it wasn't particularly cold, she found she missed the warmth of his body.

Every time she looked for him he was trotting alongside the horse. He would look up at her, with a particular look that almost made it seem like he was laughing. _Wolves can't laugh. _Still, it was annoying. She finally decided to ask him.

"Why are you a woof today?"

He looked up at her, that goofy wolf look on his face, but he said nothing, of course.

Arnbjorn could understand her, of course, what he couldn't do was shrug or talk. He'd probably just shrug if he weren't a wolf. It would irritate her, most likely. He didn't have a great strategy laid out for her seduction other than to keep her off-balance. It seemed to be working. She looked a little restless as she kept shifting around in the saddle.

"You wanted some exercise, I bet. Is that it?" She looked over at him and just saw the dog grin again. "That must be it," she murmured to herself. "Running would feel good to a dog."

_Dog? _Arnbjorn heard her comment to herself and growled at her. _I'm a woof… wolf. Dammit, she's got me saying it now._

Nessa locked eyes with him, his fur was standing up. "You don't like being called a dog?" She laughed, a smile splitting her face. "You get mad at me if I call you a woof or a dog." She rode silently for a moment. "Wuh-luf. Gotta call you a wuh-luf to make you happy, don't I?"

Arnbjorn eyed her but continued to trot along.

"You're a damned picky, wuh-luf, if you ask me. I could go up to twenty other woofs anywhere in Skyrim and they wouldn't care if I called them dogs, woofs or wuh-lufs, they'd just try to rip my throat out all the same." She watched him running a moment then had more questions. "How come you look like an ice woof? Is it because you're a Nord or because you have white hair as a man?"

Arnbjorn ignored her since he couldn't answer her.

"If you'd had dark hair would you have looked like a brown woof?" Now that she thought about it, she had a lot of questions she wanted answered. "How did you become a woof anyway? Did another werewoof bite you? Is it like the vampire disease? Or perhaps you were cursed from birth! Or maybe you stumbled into a coven of witches and they did it… I bet that's it. They wanted you to father their babies and you refused because they were ugly, so they cursed you." She laughed at her made up tale.

Arnbjorn chuffed in exasperation and then barked at Shadowmere. The horse, understanding his desire, broke into a cantor nearly jarring Nessa out of her seat. She had to concentrate on riding and that stopped the flow of questions.

It wasn't a long day of travel, that day, for which Nessa was grateful. She was still feeling slightly out-of-sorts from all the snowberry brandy and that dream still haunted her. He had told her they would come across a mining village with an inn today. She had been hoping to see it over every rise and when it did finally appear on the horizon she let out a whoop and spurred Shadowmere into a gallop, but it was cut short with an order barked by Arnbjorn that the horse seemed to understand.

She sighed heavily and dismounted when Shadowmere stopped.

Arnbjorn transformed and glared at Nessa. "Did you think I could just run into town as a wolf? Or would you have me stride into the inn naked?"

Nessa struggled to keep a smile off her face. "I forgot. Sorry. I was just thinking of having a real bed and a hot bath. Maybe some stew and mead."

Arnbjorn rummaged through his pack looking for clothes. "Aye. Been thinking on it a bit myself." He pulled on his clothes and even put on boots. He unloaded all their gear from Shadowmere and slapped her on the flank. "Go forage, girl."

Nessa squinted at Arnbjorn in confusion. "Why not put her in the stable?"

"You and I would be marked as owning a horse of the Daedra. Besides, Shadowmere hates stables. She can take care of herself out here. She'll come when we call her."

Marveling again at the horse, Nessa followed Arnbjorn down the hill leading to the valley containing the little mining village.

_~o~o~o~_

A woman showed Nessa to their room while Arnbjorn ordered their meal and a hot bath. She unpacked their bags and looked at their dusty, dirty clothing and decided that someone would have to wash them before they left. She rolled up all their clothes, save the ones they were wearing, into her bedroll and went off in search of a washerwoman, stopping to tell Arnbjorn where she was going.

He nodded approvingly. They'd been on the road a long time and everything they had to wear was dirty. Besides, getting Nessa away from their room would give him time to prepare. He picked up a vase of dragon's breath from the innkeepers countertop. The fiery orange blooms smelled sweet. "Put it on my tab."

He finalized his list of needs with the innkeeper and went to their room. He had ordered just the one room, their biggest, and it had a large bed in it and a tub built of stone in an adjoining room. A servant came into the room and turned a handle and hot water began to fill the tub.

"It'll take a few minutes, sir. We've had the water heating all day so it's ready now. Be careful and let it cool some, it'll scald the skin off a pig, right out of the pipes, sir," the servant said.

When the tub was full of steaming water the servant left. There was a fresh cake of scented soap and some linen sheets they could use to dry off.

Arnbjorn took his shirt and boots off and lay down on the bed. In a few minutes the servant returned with a tray of food. He'd ordered liberally from what they had in the kitchen. The stew and bread smelled great, but more importantly were the berry and custard tarts. Six warm tarts sitting in two neat rows. Their fragrance wafted directly to his nose and made his mouth water.

Before leaving the servant started a fire in their hearth. It was the middle of the day, but not too warm for a fire. Nords could tolerate the cold, true, but they loved to be warm. Arnbjorn opened the large bottle of Black-Briar Mead and poured two glasses. He passed by the tray of food and the tarts seemed to call his name. He meant to wait until Nessa returned, but he couldn't resist. He picked up one of the tarts, still warm from the oven, and took a large bite out of it. The sweet, berry filling was piping hot and he washed it down with a long gulp of mead.

_This is the life._ Someday he would retire and eat his fill of tarts; he swore it to Hircine, the Daedric lord of the hunt. He heard Nessa's voice and crammed the rest of the tart into his mouth, chewing and swallowing hastily. He was reclining on the bed when she came into the room.

"Oh!" She looked around the room. It was golden in the firelight and smelled sweetly of dragon's breath flowers. There were delicious smells as well, and two glasses filled with mead, one half empty. Then she noticed the tub filled with water. She turned to Arnbjorn, who was lying nonchalantly on the bed, propped up on an elbow without his shirt. She felt a flush of warmth that started at her chest and ran up to her cheeks. "This is… wonderful!"

She sat on the edge of the bed, next to Arnbjorn. _Got to start somewhere._ She mustered her nerve and bent to kiss him. He tasted like berries and mead. He kissed her back. It was a gentle, restrained kiss, nothing like the passionate kiss before he'd gone into Rorikstead. She didn't know why he was being so restrained now that she'd made up her mind. He could have her at any time, why the delay?

"You ate a tart," she said. She pulled away from him then saw the crumbs in his beard.

"No, I didn't."

She gasped. "You're a bald-faced liar! I can see the crumbs in your beard and you tasted of elder berries!" She got up and walked to tray of food. "There are five tarts here. Why five when there are two of us? Doesn't it seem like an even number would make more sense?" She turned around and shook her finger at him. "I say you stole a tart!"

He grinned at her and stood up. "All right, I ate a tart." He walked over to the tray and picked up another berry tart. "This one can be yours." He held it up to her mouth.

She inhaled the sweet, fruity scent of it and smiled. It wasn't snowberry. Since the night before, with all the snowberry brandy she drank, she didn't think she could face them now. She took a delicate bite out of the tart. It was sweet, warm and thick in her mouth. She chewed slowly, closing her eyes and swallowed, a sensuous smile growing on her face. "Oh, that's so good." She held his arm steady and took another bite, then another. Finally for the last bite she wrapped her lips around his fingers and pulled it from his grasp.

Arnbjorn was fascinated with the expression on her face as she relished the last bit of tart. She closed her eyes and her licked the last bits of tart from her lips. She sighed contentedly and smiled. "Fair now?" he asked.

Nodding, she said, "I should probably take a bath." She looked regretfully at the food.

"The food will go cold. Eat first, then we can bathe."

They sat down at the small table in their room and set to the food like they hadn't eaten in weeks. Truly, traveling food wasn't very tasty. It usually lacked spices and proper seasoning. It was designed to fuel the body, not nourish the soul. The inn's food wasn't extraordinary but Nessa thought it was some of the best she'd ever had. They stuffed themselves full and there was still some food left for later.

Arnbjorn's fondness for tarts hadn't gone unnoticed by Nessa. She only ate one more and let him have two more. One lone tart was left sitting on the tray and Nessa couldn't help but see the glances he gave it. "You can have it," she said, relinquishing her claim. "I'll take my bath now."

He grunted his thanks and ate the tart while watching Nessa undress. There was something purposeful in the way she undressed. Her shoulders and arms emerged slowly as she skimmed off the leather cuirass. Then she wriggled rather a lot as she skimmed off her leather leggings. She peeked at him once and smiled shyly. She was certainly learning the role that Astrid had chosen her for. But that was the trouble, wasn't it? Was she playing the part she thought she had to play or did she really want him? His keen sense of smell told him she was acting. Yet, there had been times it hadn't been an act. For a few moments this morning… There was plenty of time. No need to rush it. But watching her undress tested his resolve.

"I'm going for a walk," he said and then he left abruptly.

Nessa let the last piece of clothing fall to the ground. "Gods damn him!" She picked up a boot and flung it at the door. She kicked her pile of armor out of the way and climbed into the tub. "Stupid man," she grumbled. _What sort of a game is he playing? _She thought back over everything since she'd woken up that morning and couldn't think of any reason for his seeming reluctance.

The water was hot and it defused her temper quickly. She unfastened her braids, dropping her ribbons beside the tub, and then washed her hair with the bar of scented soap and rinsed it thoroughly. Then she slumped down into the bath until it covered her up to her chin. Muscles she hadn't realized were tight began to relax. Somehow her left shoulder was sore. Maybe she'd slept on it wrong. Between the fullness of her belly and the heat of the water she nearly dozed off, but Arnbjorn returned and that jarred her back to wakefulness.

He said nothing but strode over to the tub and crouched down beside her. "I'll wash your back, bit." Taking the bar of soap, he gently rubbed it over her back. It always surprised her how gentle he could be with his hands; they were so massive and strong. She lifted her hair and he scrubbed the back of her neck. It was the first hot bath she'd had since they left the sanctuary and she hated to get out but she did get out and dried herself off.

The tub was something of a marvel, having a drain and a sluice the filled it with hot water. Arnbjorn reached in and drained it, refilling it from the sluice. He shucked his clothes and got in. The water was nearly scalding, but he sunk into it and sighed deeply. "This makes me homesick for Sanctuary."

"Aye. I've grown fond of that hot spring, but this is nearly as good." She slipped into her nightgown since her other clothes were being washed and she didn't want to wear her armor again. She openly watched Arnbjorn bathe and got up to sit beside the tub. She reached over and took the bar of soap from him and began to wash his back. She sluiced water down his back to rinse the suds off. "Wet your hair," she said. "I'll wash it for you."

Arnbjorn snorted softly, not really wanting to have his hair washed. "I don't want to smell like flowers."

"It will fade soon enough. Wet your hair," she ordered.

He grumbled but sunk under the water for a moment and reemerged with water streaming off his head and beard.

She rubbed the bar over his hair and even into his luxurious beard.

"Mind the beard, woman," he growled. No one messed with Arnbjorn's beard.

"It had bits of your dinner in it. Although, I suppose you could have been saving them for leaner times." She massaged his scalp with her fingers, working the soap into a sweet smelling lather. "You could boil your beard and serve a hearty stew." She laughed at the image of Arnbjorn's beard floating in a stewpot.

Arnbjorn grumbled, but didn't object when she lathered up his beard and massaged it with her fingers. When she finished he plunged underwater and rinsed off the soap.

"There, all evidence of your tart theft is gone." She flattened his beard against his face and examined him. "You'd look ten years younger if you shaved that off."

Arnbjorn moved quickly, grabbing her hand off his beard. He yanked her close. Her nightgown sleeve trailed into the water and she shrieked. "Ease that notion out of your head," he growled. "I'll not shave my chin like one of those Imperial milk drinkers."

Nessa righted herself and wrung the water out of her sleeve. "Why? Do you have a weak chin?"

The splash sent a sizeable wave washing out of the tub. Nessa looked at him with shock. Sputtering and swearing, her nightgown now thoroughly soaked, she looked like a drowned rat. The look on her face was priceless. Whatever penalty he might face for pulling her into the tub was well worth it.

"You… you..." She stood up, water dripping from her nightgown. "You!" She was at a loss for words. "What am I going to wear to bed now? Everything else is being laundered." She pulled the soaked nightgown over her head and threw it on the floor. Her towel was wet so she used his. "You can use a wet towel, for that!"

It was still early, but now she had nothing to wear, so she crawled into bed and plaited her hair while glaring at him. He looked entirely too pleased with himself. _Stupid woof!_ She finished braiding her wet hair and burrowed into the bed. It was much too early to go to bed yet, but she had a feeling she would sleep anyway.

Arnbjorn dried off and crawled in on the other side. He felt much better having eaten and bathed. Nessa's shoulder poked out of the covers. He admired the delicate slope, pale skin, and lean muscle. He moved a bit closer. It wouldn't hurt to test the waters and she how she responded. He touched her shoulder and gently drew his hand up to her neck. "Bit. You mad?"

"Oooh!" she said, making her temper apparent. She turned over in the bed to face him. "You're still a rude woof. I thought maybe you'd be nicer to me now."

Her scowl was visible even in the dim light of the room. "Aw, bit. I was just playing. You were teasing me about my beard, it was only fair." They were definitely going to have to figure out how to connect if this was going to work.

She sighed and her face relaxed. "I never know what to expect from you, Arnbjorn. You say you want us to become lovers, I agree, and then you stay away from me. I think you're toying with me."

He snorted quietly. "I'm just trying to figure you out, tidbit. I think you said yes out of a sense of duty or guilt. That isn't going to work."

Nessa frowned again. He was right, but not entirely. "This whole thing seems too contrived. Lovers don't plan their courtship in advance. Someone pursues and someone else gets caught. That's how it's supposed to work." Her voice was full of certainty. That had been how it had happened with Astrid. She'd shown her interest in little touches and glances at first, then she'd seized the opportunity and caught Nessa in the web of her seduction.

"So that's it. You want to be pursued, like prey. Well… Hircine is the lord of the hunt and I'm his." His smile took on a predatory quality. Nessa was young, inexperienced, of course she'd have opinions formed of little more than fantasy.

"I meant it figuratively, Arnbjorn." She rolled onto her back and picked up a braid and played with it so she wouldn't have to look at him. _How could he be so dumb and yet be Astrid's husband?_

Much like she'd been pulled into the tub before she was even aware of it, he sprang quickly and trapped her underneath his torso. His hair, still damp from his bath, hung down on either side of her face. For one moment he indulged in that predatory grin and then he kissed her.

She tensed under him and put her hands on his shoulders to push him off, but the kiss stole her breath away. _Well, finally!_ He wasn't all just talk. Relaxing into the kiss she opened her mouth and her tongue met his. There was that element of brutishness to him that was so different from Astrid, but her appreciation of his differences was growing. The hands that were going to push him away crept around his neck and then down his back.

He broke away from her, his smile gone now. "Did I catch my prey?" he asked with a voice huskier than usual.

"Aye," she whispered. "Don't stop."

He flung the sleeping furs off of them and leaned over her, drawing his eyes along her body. The glow of the fire made her look almost golden. He traced a finger from her ear, down her neck, across her collar bone and then down to a nipple. Bending over her he drew it into his mouth and teased it with his tongue and lips. _At last!_ There was the unmistakable redolence of female excitement. His eyes narrowed and he growled subvocally.

Something flashed in Arnbjorn's eyes and Nessa caught just the hint of the wolf that lurked within him. She knew then that sex with Arnbjorn wasn't just about pleasure, it was about ownership. Maybe that's why he'd been so reticent. A man could lie with many women and never lay claim to them, but wolves were monogamous. What he was doing would go against his nature as a wolf. The thought of his dual nature cut off abruptly as he nipped at her neck and fondled her breasts. She ran her hands down his sides and drew them over his buttocks, feeling the strong muscles that powered his legs.

Slowly he worked his way down her torso to the home of the tantalizing scent she exuded. If she'd been another wolf he'd already have jammed his nose into the source and filled his nostrils with her. When he nipped the delicate skin on the inside of her thighs she parted them for him with a wordless moan. Then the hovered over her breathing in her essence, tasting her with his sensitive nose first, then his mouth.

Nessa recanted the terrible things she'd said about Nord men with small, wordless prayers as he skillfully found all the spots that made her squirm with pleasure. She laced her fingers through his long, damp hair and held on. Her heels dug into his shoulders as he pleasured her. Her fingers began to tighten, pulling at his hair, and her back arched. _So close!_

He pulled his face away. "Nord men are rough and brutish, morsel?" He smiled at her as she raised her head from the bed noting the look of dismay she wore.

The peak that was so incredibly close was receding quickly. "No!" She shook her head to emphasize. "Not you, Arnbjorn. Gods, no!"

He casually drew his fingers across her to keep her aroused. "Tell me what you want, tidbit." He worked his way up her body and leaned over her, his fingers continuing to massage her.

"This… I want…" she fumbled looking for the proper thing to say. Her face grew hot under his scrutiny and his fingers intensified their patterns over her. "Oh, divines," she pled to the nine. "Talos! Just…"

"Do you want me in you?" he asked.

She hesitated a moment then nodded.

"Then ask me."

"Arnbjorn, please… I want you."

He nodded once and leaned in to kiss her, positioning himself between her legs. Taking his time, he teased her. Her breath caught each time he stroked himself against her. Then he slowly entered her, watching her expression. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open and then she smiled, shutting her eyes as she adjusted to him. He moved ever so gradually allowing her to become used to him. He knew he had her when he was fully sheathed and she wrapped her legs around his hips and began to move herself.

"Are you all right, bit?" he asked. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her cheekbone.

She nodded and cracked her eyes to look at him. "It feels… good."

"That's good," he said. It was good. Very good. Her athletic body fit him well. He could feel her strong muscles rippling around him. He swallowed hard, trying to hold back and go slowly, but she was pushing against him in counterpoint, urging him on with nails that dragged across his back. He wanted this to be good for her, so he stopped and repositioned her on her stomach, with her behind in the air.

She looked back at him, a puzzled expression on her face nearly made him laugh. Her inexperience was amusing at times. He took her again, this time more swiftly.

She gasped as he filled her. The first way had been nice, but this was something else again. His arm wrapped around her hips and with his free hand he began to caress her again. "Oh, sweet divines," she breathed. Her breath came in pants, interspersed with moans as he thrust. The tension built rapidly and, almost as a complete surprise to herself, she froze, her muscles locked in ecstasy. She shouted out to one of the divines, she wasn't sure which one. Her body trembled with the force of the release and then she slumped to the bed with her muscles still twitching.

Arnbjorn twisted her to her side and lifted her leg and reinserted himself. His thrusts were rapid now. It was only a short while until he felt that pressure building between his legs and then found sweet release within her. He slumped over her and the sweat on their bodies intermingled in a final act of intimacy.

"Tidbit." He kissed her at the base of her throat where he could see her pulse. He pushed himself off her so she wouldn't have to bear his weight.

She groaned wordlessly and opened her eyes to watch him contentedly. "I take it all back, Arnbjorn."

"Good." He pulled her so her head rested against his chest. He felt a few moments of guilt as he realized he'd been unfaithful to Astrid for the first time, but the thought that his wife had also been unfaithful with the same girl eased his remorse.

Nessa also felt guilty, but the languor she felt nestled against the Nord werewolf overwhelmed those thoughts and she fell into a deep, restful sleep with his arms around her.

~o~o~o~

Thanks for the reviews, my dear readers! Please keep them coming, they're like Dulce de Leche on ice cream: very yummy!

Nessa and Arnbjorn don't entirely understand each other, but I think they'll find new and interesting ways to resolve their disagreements in the future. Next chapter we may get a peek into what is going on back at the sanctuary and perhaps a peek into what mischief Brynjolf is up to.

My thanks to Zevgirl and Biff McLaughlin for pointing out my typos and sentences that make no sense at all. And I think them for being good buddies and prodding my muse, laughing at my stupid jokes and such.

There may be a bit of slowness updating this the next time. I've been getting requests for some more Lucy fics and I am half-way through a delicious troika of something that definitely never happened at Ostagar. Nope. Absolutely not. Never, ever... It will be posted in the "The Lost Chapters".

Now, where did I put that bar of soap?


	15. Chapter 15

_A shorter chapter before what should be a meaty chapter coming next. Please read and review!_

**A Mining Town Inn**

Arnbjorn woke in the night finding Nessa splayed across him; her head tucked into his shoulder, left arm thrown over his body. Her leg tangled with his. They'd fallen asleep so early that he now found himself wide-awake. His mind flashed to the love making a few hours ago. There were so many things tidbit didn't know about making love with a man. He found himself looking forward to teaching her.

Carefully moving her limbs out of his way, trying not to disturb her, he got up to empty his bladder. When he came back to the bed he found her lying, like a starfish, limbs spread to the four corners.

"Bed pig," he said, chuckling softly at her. He sat down beside her and drew his hand from her knee to her thigh, stopping just short of the pale hair that hid her sex. The last embers of the fire flickered casting a ruby glow over her. He felt himself stir at the sight of her. Bending over her, he kissed her belly and ran his hand over her mound. She moved in her sleep and made a quiet sigh, but didn't awaken. He trailed kisses up her torso to her breasts, kissing the tops of each one, then to her neck. She finally awoke when he puffed his hot breath into her ear.

She made a querulous noise and lifted her head to look at him with sleepy confusion. Finally recognition came to her. "Arnbjorn." Her head flopped back down to the pillow. "Is it time to go already?"

"Not yet, bit," he spoke softly, his lips next to her ear. "I just woke up hungry and found my prey in bed with me. Very convenient."

Nessa woke up a little more as his mustache tickled against her ear and then his tongue traced the whorls. The sensation sent a delicious shiver through her and her knees suddenly felt weak. "You're a nice woof though."

He withdrew from her ear and laughed darkly. "Oh no, morsel, I'm not a nice woof at all." He snarled playfully and threw himself on her, nipping her neck, her earlobes, and then down to her collarbone and breasts.

Nessa, coming fully awake, shrieked with laughter. She tried to push Arnbjorn away but he caught her hands and pinned them above her head with one hand. "You're a delicious little rabbit, a little too lean, but a good snack for a woof." He sucked on a nipple, and nibbled gently when it hardened into a knot. She squirmed under him, her laughter turning to moans. His leg worked against her sex as he nibbled and bit her. He didn't need his nose to tell him she was aroused, he could feel her dampness against him.

"Bit." He pulled her leg up and she curled it around his waist. "I want you." He positioned himself, waiting for the word from her.

Nessa looked at him, poised above her, ready to take her. His eyes glowed intensely in the light of the embers. She showed none of the ambivalence she'd had earlier. "Do it, Arnbjorn," she said.

He thrust into her and she rose to meet him. This time he sensed no hesitation, she was as eager as him. He pulled her legs up and found her astonishingly flexible. As he thrust into her, he leaned forward and they kissed. Their tongues twined together in a savage dance. Stopping abruptly he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them both over. "Ride me, morsel."

That look of astonishment passed across Nessa's face again and Arnbjorn nearly laughed. "That's it, sit up," he encouraged her.

She began to move, slowly at first and then she began to get the hang of it. Her hips began to do a sort of roll. Then he thrust up under her. This was hitting all the right spots for her and she shut her eyes and moaned.

Arnbjorn's free hand teased her and she fell forward, trapping his hand between them. A few more thrusts and sliding his fingers against her and she buried her face into his shoulder and cried out softly.

"Stay with me, Nessa, we're not done yet," he said as he continued to thrust under her. He rolled them to their sides and found another position. Adjusting her legs, he resumed thrusting. Shortly, her eyes were starting to glaze over again and she started to swear softly. "Not yet, Nessa. Hold on a bit longer."

Panting, she nodded focusing on him, her eyes meeting his. He held her gaze with his own fierce look. "Gods. I can't Arnbjorn."

"Yes, now, sweetling," he hissed at her, feeling his own release upon him. "Gods!" He gave a last thrust and felt himself spilling into her.

"Arn!" She bit his shoulder, trying not to yell and shook in his arms. The intensity of her climax surprised her. Not since Astrid…

They both slumped back down to the bed and looked at one another. Nessa smiled first, and then Arnbjorn did. "I think this partnership will work out, woof."

Chuckling, Arnbjorn pulled her to him and kissed her. "I think so, too." He held her for a few moments and stroked her hair. "Let's go back to sleep, morsel. Don't hog the bed this time."

"I don't hog the bed," she said and punched him softly in the arm.

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Shush, bit. Go to sleep."

"Don't shush me!"

Arnbjorn chuckled and pulled her to him kissing her one last time and he kept hold of her until he heard her breath came slowly and regularly. Astrid seemed very far away.

_~o~o~o~_

_Sanctuary_

Sanctuary felt cold and hollow. There was none of the usual hustle and bustle about the place. Arnbjorn's last training dummy was still a splintered mess, but stood as a forlorn tribute to his ferocity. She went to the room he'd moved into. She sat at the side of his bed and picked up his pillow, inhaling his scent. Smelling it was almost an admission that she missed him. Then she went to Nessa's room and looked at some of the things she kept in her dresser. There wasn't much to see. A few ribbons, a hair comb, a pretty green stone, and a sea shell. Almost everything she owned was still at the thieves' guild in Riften. What little she had now was acquired since they'd stolen her from the midst of the thieves. She picked up a ribbon and ran it through her fingers.

She felt a moment of sentimentality over the short time she and Nessa had been lovers. It wasn't the first time Astrid had broken someone's heart when it was time to move on. It was different this time. She hadn't been bored with her. Her husband was right; she couldn't control her blood lust. It was too tempting to drink, and once she started…

Putting down the ribbon abruptly, she chided herself. _This is nonsense. _She'd been focusing on the needs of the Brotherhood. If business continued, they might even think about expanding. Perhaps they could reclaim some of the abandoned sanctuaries.

Astrid strode through the nearly deserted sanctuary to her office and went to work. Or she tried to. She couldn't focus. She threw down her quill and armed herself with her blades and walked up the long hallway to the door. It rolled open for her.

This night was pleasant. It never got too cold in the south, not that the cold affected her. She headed to Falkreath. She walked nearly soundlessly through the streets of the small hold. At one of the nicer homes she quietly picked the lock on a door and slipped inside. The beating of hearts lured her upstairs where she found a man and a woman in bed, both fast asleep. She bent over the woman and whispered "sleep". The woman wouldn't awaken when she sank her fangs into her neck.

She drank deeply, being careful not to make noise that might awaken the man. The blood soothed her restlessness but fed her cruelty. There had been a string of deaths in Falkreath of late. Never did she question why she did it, but in the morning this man would awaken to find his love gone and a pale, bloodless husk lying beside him. _Love is unfair._ She straightened up from the dead woman and wiped her lips on the back of her gloved hand. _Get used to it._

It was tempting to seek out more sleeping couples, but she was risking too much. They were beginning to speak of vampires around town and looking for someone to blame for the deaths. They'd probably find some eccentric hermit to blame for it, burn him in the town square, and then she'd stop and let them think they'd found the culprit.

Astrid returned to the sanctuary, her restlessness cured for the moment.

_Solitude_

"It's time to move on," the guard grabbed Brynjolf by the collar and thrust him to the entrance of the hold. "The Jarl doesn't want to get any more complaints about your nostrums."

_By Mara's tits another one going sour! _"Good sir, I'll make you a special deal of Barenziah's Love Elixir, guaranteed to warm even the coldest hearted lass. Or even put the saber cat back into your trousers."

It was the wrong thing to say to the wrong guard. "Get your skinny ass out of here before I haul you before Legate Rikke and let the Imperials sort you out. I tried your damn elixir and it doesn't work!"

"Ah, sir, my sympathies. Were you very careful to follow the instructions? It's a touchy thing… Oof!" Brynjolf was forcibly expelled from the gate and his sack was thrown after him. He cringed as he heard bottles of elixir breaking as it hit the ground. "Well, Delvin, I'm beginning to believe you might be right," he muttered to himself. "I had to sell a bottle of Barenziah's to an off-duty guard with a limp pickle." He shouldered his pack, not minding that it was leaking Barenziah's. He could brew another batch at the next hold. He shouldered his way through the crowds coming and going into Solitude and stopped for a moment, he turned abruptly trying to get another look at the woman he caught out of the corner of his eye. _Pale hair, braids, and a blue ribbon. Nessa? _It was too late; she'd disappeared into the crowd entering Solitude. "Now I'm seeing things," he muttered.

The open road called. He wasn't doing much better in the other holds than he had been in Riften, but there was always another village, another city, another rube with more money than brains. He couldn't stay angry for too long. The weather was uncommonly nice and he thought his luck was due to change.

_~o~o~o~_

Two days out from the cozy inn at the mining town, Nessa and Arnbjorn finally made it to Solitude. They'd turned Shadowmere loose well away from the hold, not wanting his oddness noted.

"Go to Solitude, boy," Arnbjorn said, stroking the horse's forehead. He trusted the horse would understand and obey. Shadowmere pulled away and made his way into the trees bordering the road. Arnbjorn turned to Nessa and with a gesture of his head, they resumed their trek to Solitude. Their arms bumped from time to time, an indication of how much closer they walked to one another.

"Are you nervous, bit?" Arnbjorn asked.

"A little." Truthfully, her stomach was rolling. Killing Valentius was easy, she just had to play a part and Arnbjorn did the rest. This time it would be mostly up to her.

Arnbjorn stared at her thinking. The thought of some old Imperial pawing at her, or worse, made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. There was no need for her to seduce the commander; they could work out something else. "You can get a job working in his household. You'll have ample opportunity to poison him."

She looked up at him in surprise. "I thought I was supposed to seduce him? You said that's what Astrid wanted."

He rubbed his beard. "It was just a suggestion. She won't care as long as it looks natural."

Taking a few paces, Nessa thought it over. "If he likes Nord girls it might be easiest to get into his bed. He might not need a servant. It seems like it'd go faster."

Arnbjorn knew she was talking sense, he just didn't like it. "It's not difficult to create a job opening in a man's household staff."

Nessa shrugged. "I don't want to have to kill more people than necessary."

He snorted with annoyed amusement. "I almost think you want to bed the old man."

She rounded on him, her brows drawn down in anger. "I don't! All right? I do not want to bed an old man." In fact, her stomach clenched at the thought. "But I trust Astrid, if she thought that was best. She said that would be where I would shine as an assassin. It's why she sent me, isn't it?"

Arnbjorn stopped walking suddenly and grabbed her by the upper arms. "Astrid isn't perfect, bit. She makes mistakes just like anyone else. You don't have follow her suggestion as if it were an order."

Nessa pulled her arms out of his grasp. The vehemence of his objection startled her. Did he think he owned her now? "This is my contract and I'll do what I think is best. All right?"

He drew a deep breath, collecting himself, and nodded. She was right. Sometimes his wolfish nature got the better of him. He had to let her fulfill the contract however she felt best. He was only here to assist.

As they drew closer to Solitude the road began to get more crowded. People were coming from outlying villages, some of them refugees from the civil war, others coming to do their marketing. Arnbjorn and Nessa were mindful that they needed to blend in. They stopped their arguing and exchanged pleasantries with the other travelers. Just as they reached the keep, there was something of a commotion. She couldn't see what it was through the crowd around the gate, so she ignored it.

"All right, bit. We need to split up," Arnbjorn said, taking her aside after they entered the city. "If you're going to seduce him you can't be seen with me. Get a room at the inn now. I'll get a room later. Pretend like you don't know me."

Nessa hadn't thought about that. She didn't like the idea of sleeping alone… not now.

The sudden cloud that came over her expression wasn't missed by Arnbjorn. "Get a room on the ground floor. It'll be easier to sneak in through a window." He pulled her to him and kissed her quickly on the forehead. "Go on, then. I'll see you around."

She nodded and with one last look at him turned to go to the Winking Skeever, the biggest and best inn in Solitude.

The innkeeper was a talkative Imperial and greeted Nessa warmly. He got her a bottom floor room, just as she requested, and immediately sent servants to fill a bath at her request. She unpacked her belongings while waiting for the bath to be filled. Her new blue dress that she bought in Whiterun was a wrinkled mess. She would have to find someone to press her clothes. At present she was dressed in trousers and a loose shirt belted at the waist. It was practical for traveling, but if she were looking to catch the eye of the commander it wouldn't do at all.

She mused over the list of things she needed like some better clothes. Arnbjorn said there was a clothing shop Astrid recommended. She might need a nice perfume, that couldn't hurt, new shoes, too.

Attracting the commander's attention was one thing, but having a plausible story was yet another. She went over a number of stories in her head and decided to settle upon being the daughter of a respected doctor in… Whiterun. She knew the doctor there and he did have a daughter, although she was a few years younger and as homely as mud fence. The girl was named Melia. At least her name was pretty.

_Now why would she be in Solitude? Because… _Nessa paced back and forth, looking for a reason. _I'm enrolling in the Bard college!_ _But what if he asks me to sing? _Well, she'd think of some reason not to sing. Besides, not every bard had a pleasant voice. Some of them were just storytellers.

The servant finally departed and Nessa got took her bath. Afterward she went to the common room and ate. Arnbjorn was sitting in a corner nursing a tankard of mead. Catching his eye, she risked a shy, half smile and looked away. When she looked back he winked at her the side of his mouth raised just a bit. She had to look away or she would start laughing. Their furtive little flirtation made her wonder if it was too early to go to bed, but the sun had only just gone down. She was already looking forward to bedding him again. Looking at him from the corner of her eyes, she saw he was still watching her. She dragged her fingertip through the sauce on her plate and brought it to her mouth and carefully licked the sauce off. Convinced she had his attention, she slowly inserting the fingertip into her mouth, closed her eyes, and then withdrew it.

Arnbjorn watched the little display Nessa was putting on for his benefit. The girl was learning quickly. Between Astrid and him they had put an end to her innocence. Naiveté was another matter. Life had a way of stripping that away. He was beginning to envy her fingertip. He was about to make a discrete head gesture to suggest she might want to go to her room, when he noticed he wasn't the only one in the Winking Skeever watching her. The innkeeper's son had stopped sweeping the floor and was staring at her.

"Sorex," Arnbjorn waved the man over, "Can I buy you a drink?"

Sorex noted that Arnbjorn's table had a very good view of the attractive young woman. "Oh," he looked around for his father and noted he was busy with customers. "Yes. I could do with a little break." He smiled at the friendly Nord. "Arnbjorn isn't it?"

He went to the bar and brought back ale for himself and mead for the customer. "Here you go. This one's on the house." He pulled out the chair with the best view of the girl. "Say," he whispered conspiratorially, "did you see that beauty over there?"

"Hard to miss," Arnbjorn replied. "Thanks for the drink." He clinked his bottle against the Imperial's. "So I'm in town to see Commander Calvus Liore. Ever hear of him?"

"Sure, who hasn't? He used to be General Tullius' right hand man, until Legate Rikke took that spot." The innkeeper's son leaned in a little closer. "Some say Rikke and Tullius are… sparring partners, if you catch my drift. You didn't hear it from me, though."

"Course not." Arnbjorn sat back in his chair and drank slowly, waiting for the ale to loosen the other man's tongue. "What do you know of Liore? I've got business with him. I like to have every advantage."

"Of course. I hear his shipping business is doing well, other than that I haven't heard much." Sorex turned his attention back to Nessa. "Mara, I'd give a lot for that girl. Excuse me, friend, but I think I'll try my luck." He looked at the friendly Nord and noted something rather savage in his eyes.

Arnbjorn restrained the impulse to grab the man by his throat. "Of course. Good luck. Nord girls can be a bit chilly to you southerners."

"Can't blame a guy for trying," Sorex said smiling affably. "See you around, Arnbjorn."

Arnbjorn nodded at the man. He leaned back in his chair and watched Sorex approach Nessa. They conversed for a few moments, then he saw Nessa shake her head and Sorex looking abashed. The innkeeper's son left and resumed his job of sweeping the floor. Arnbjorn caught her eye and made an almost imperceptible gesture toward the stairs with his head.

Nessa picked up her bottle of ale and went to her room. She undressed, but for her smallclothes, and was unbraiding her hair when her door opened silently and then closed. She turned to greet Arnbjorn with a welcoming smile.

"You wanton minx," he growled. "Do you have any idea of what watching you suck on your finger was doing to me?"

"It made you hungry? That sauce was very tasty," she teased him. Nessa had intuited certain things about Arnbjorn and what he might desire. He'd certainly spent enough time with his nose buried between her legs, tonight she'd see if he would like that too. The thought was a little terrifying, but compelling.

"I was visualizing something other than a finger," he said. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her into him for a kiss. He growled with satisfaction as she rubbed against him. As her hand outlined his length against the front of his trousers, his growl became throatier. He lost his words altogether when she sank to her knees and unlaced him.

The evening, though early still, went by quickly and it was quite late when Nessa flopped to the bed, utterly worn out, thoroughly satisfied, and not a little sore. It was a pleasing sort of soreness, the kind that reminds you of why you're sore and that is a happy memory.

The accommodations were top-notch. The bed was soft and free of bugs. It wasn't long before Arnbjorn heard Nessa's sleeping breath next to him. These carefree days of travel and sex reminded him of Astrid when they'd first met, before she'd taken over leadership of the Brotherhood. Those had been heady days. Eventually the responsibilities and hard decisions of managing the brotherhood of assassins had taken a toll on both of them.

He watched a piece of Nessa's hair rising and falling in time with her breaths and moved it off her face. He tried to imagine what this trip would have been like with Astrid. She would have been focused on business and mulling over her cares. Oh, they would have had fun, too. But these two weeks spent with Nessa, teasing her, seducing her, now exploring her sexuality with her… he was almost glad that circumstances had forced this on them. He wrapped an arm protectively over her and settled in for a good rest.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Thank you steffiii07, TheOtherLachance, zevgirl, Biff McLaughlin, Carrp for the reviews. They really do help inspire the muse and motivate me to write. I always look forward to hearing from readers. In fact, TheOtherLachance asked for a peek into what Astrid was doing so I wrote that for her. Always open to suggestions from readers… not that I always follow them. No, Nessa won't be having puppies with Arnbjorn. LOL!_

_If you're one of the folks that followed me to Skyrim from Dragon Age, you might want to peek at "The Lost Chapters". I added a new Lucy chapter to it… on something of a dare. The Teyrn has already had his revenge._

_I looked up Sorex, the innkeeper's son on the Skyrim wiki and… he's kind of cute! Apparently you can marry him, but right now Nessa only has eyes for Arnbjorn, and Astrid, of course._


	16. Chapter 16

**Solitude**

"There's someone you need to meet, tidbit," Arnbjorn explained the next morning. "Cordula is an Imperial woman who works for us from time to time. Not as an assassin, but she keeps her ear to the ground and informs us when there are possible contracts. She knows a lot of people here and she can open doors for you."

Nessa nodded and sipped at her tea. She was glad she'd found some Dragon's Tongue herb in town. It was a useful contraceptive tea. "Where should I meet her?"

Arnbjorn handed her a note with an address. "Here you go. Have her go with you to Radiant Raiment and help you pick out clothes." He handed her a bulging purse. "Don't worry about paying Cordula, she's been compensated already. This should get you what you need and a little extra." He kissed her on the forehead. "Now go get some pretty clothes."

"I wish you'd come with me instead," she said.

"I can't. Besides, I have terrible taste in clothes. I'd end up dressing you like a Khajit hooker. Trust Cordula, she knows what she is doing." He swatted her on the fanny. "Go on, now."

She flashed a smile back at him. "All right, but you'll come to my room tonight to see what I've bought?"

"Wouldn't miss it for anything," he said, already thinking about what she would be wearing under those clothes. "Get some nice smallclothes, too. Something… sheer."

Nessa saw the gleam in his eye and knew he was intending to enjoy them, or at least her in them. It wasn't nice, but she had to do it. "Oh! Good idea. The commander will like them." She giggled and skittered out the door before Arnbjorn could retaliate for the remark.

She felt light as air as she crossed through the inn toward the door. Her thoughts were still replaying part of the previous night as she made her way through Solitude looking for Cordula's house. Solitude was something of an anomaly. It was quite far north, farther north than Winterhold, yet the weather here was exceptional. There was a warm ocean current that kept the place protected from the snows and storms common to most of the north. Here there were flowers blossoming of the sorts that usually only bloomed in the south. No one really understood why the weather was so nice there and yet so horrible in the rest of the north. It only added to Nessa's carefree mood.

She was just turning a corner to go down yet another street lined with flowering shrubs and singing birds, when it struck her.

_I love Arnbjorn._

How could this happen? A week ago she'd been deeply depressed over losing Astrid's affection and now she was thinking only of Arnbjorn.

_I still love Astrid… don't I?_

She searched her heart and found the feelings still there but muted and distant.

_Am I really this fickle?_

What about the whole reason behind this affair? The purpose had been to win back Astrid and this path seemed like their best hope. Could it really work? Wasn't it likely that someone would become jealous of someone else and the whole thing would collapse? She tried to imagine Astrid and Arnbjorn together and felt jealous, but of whom? She closed her eyes and tried to think of the three of them together. That brought a smile to her lips. A few days ago she couldn't even have imagined half the things she and Arnbjorn had done, much less what the three of them would do in bed. Her imagination had plenty to work with now.

_Maybe there's nothing wrong with loving two people. _

It was a new thought and it kept her occupied until she reached the edge of Solitude. Then she realized she'd walked well beyond her destination, but it was a beautiful view. She stopped for a few minutes and let the cool sea breezes play about her face. She watched the clouds scud across the sky and the birds dipping and diving to catch insects. She loved the whole wide world in that moment and Solitude especially. Life was very, very good.

But she had a man to kill. Back to business, she left the sea wall and got back on course to meet Arnbjorn's contact.

Cordula was an Imperial woman perhaps a decade older than Nessa. Her face lit up when Nessa mentioned they were going to Radiant Raiment to go clothes shopping.

"Oh! Excellent," Cordula said, "They have the finest styles in all of Skyrim. We'll have you looking like a princess in no time."

Looking like a princess sounded lovely to Nessa, but she knew that wasn't what they were after. "I just need to look nice to catch a man's eye."

"Ah!" Cordula appraised her critically. "You'll make a good lure. You certainly don't look like an assassin. Who is the target?"

Nessa felt strange talking to an outsider about their contract, but Arnbjorn trusted her. "Calvus Liore, do you know of him?" She lowered her voice, not wanting to have anyone overhear them.

"Of course." Cordula smiled at Nessa. "I told Astrid he likes Nord girls and you certainly fit the bill. He usually makes a special arrangement with a girl he likes. He puts her up in a little house, pays her expenses, and she takes care of him, if you catch my meaning." She laughed merrily. "That is, until they fall pregnant, then he sends them away with a tidy sum as long as they promise not to bother him with the bastard."

Nessa shook her head; she was beginning to dislike the man already. "Does he have a woman now?"

Cordula shook her head. "No, now that you mention it, he doesn't, and he hasn't for some time. That isn't like him. Well, he is getting on in years, perhaps he's losing interest, or his equipment isn't working." She shrugged. "Or maybe he just hasn't met the right girl. You're fresh meat, though, so he might just go for it."

Nessa furrowed her forehead. _Fresh meat? _She didn't like being described like that. _How do I get him in bed if he's not interested?_ They passed a store on the way called _Angeline's Aromatics_. "Cordula! Can we stop here? I'd like to buy a scent."

The Imperial woman nodded. "Oh, good idea. Some sandalwood and musk might help your cause." She pushed open the door and Nessa followed.

Angeline was a sweet older woman. When Cordula suggested sandalwood or musk Angeline dismissed the notion out of hand. "No, those scents are more popular with women of a certain reputation. Your friend is a sweet, young woman. A floral scent would be more appropriate."

Cordula looked vexed at that comment. "I wear sandalwood myself. The old lady doesn't know what she's talking about," she whispered to Nessa.

Nessa smiled at Cordula, but let Angeline show her what she had in mind. Eventually she found one she really liked. It was floral but with a touch of muskiness.

"The musk is collected from the scent glands of female horkers in heat. Some say that it is an aphrodisiac for man and mer. If you wear too much of it, you'll have Khajiit following you around yowling," Angeline explained. "Now, the florals are a bit of lily-of-the-valley and, oddly enough, dragon's breath smells really nice on you. This is your own personal scent, Nessa. I won't sell it to anyone else."

The idea of having her own personal fragrance was exciting. She bought that and some of the ingredients she would need for healing potions and sleeping draughts. She paid for the purchases and asked for them to be delivered to the Winking Skeever. She waved farewell to Angeline.

The clothier, Radiant Raiment, was owned by two Altmer women, the sisters Taarie and Endarie. Like many Altmer, they considered themselves superior to all other races and voiced that opinion loudly and frequently. Nessa was a particularly flawed specimen by their assessment. Her shoulders were too broad, her neck was too long, and she didn't have any bosom whatsoever.

Nessa was starting to wish she'd brought her daggers with her to shut the Altmer sisters up permanently, but by the time they finished pulling clothes off of racks and putting her into them, she had to admit they were geniuses.

"By the eight, girl, despite all your shortcomings we did manage a major miracle. Don't you think so, Taarie?" Endarie said, pinning a dart into the dress they'd chosen for her.

"Yes, dear sister. This shade of blue is divine on her, even with her terrible skin." Taarie looked critically at Nessa. "You really should stay out of the sun, my dear. You've got _freckles_." She shivered in horror as if freckles were a contagious disease. "Be sure to wear a broad-brimmed hat and gloves any time you venture outside. You must keep your skin covered at all times. Then it'll be milky white, like mine." The proprietress gestured at her own pale face and chest to show Nessa how one should truly look.

"We could disguise her lack of breasts with ruffles," Endarie suggested.

"No ruffles," Nessa said shortly. She hated ruffles. They reminded her of old women.

Cordula nodded in agreement. "I think a corset and some padding could enhance her in that region."

The sisters shrugged and admitted that it could work. They began to hunt through their collection of corsets. "What about this one, sister?"

"Ha! That would never fit this Nord's waist. You're thinking wood elf, dear, we're dealing with an oversized barbarian here."

Nessa shared a secretive murderous glance with Cordula.

"What about this one?" Taarie pulled out a cream-colored silk corset. "Maybe underneath and the top of the corset and some of the arm straps can show?"

"Oh! Off the shoulder… I like it!" the other sister exclaimed. "I think that might work. We'll lower the neckline on the dress and expose her shoulders to show off the corset and her assets, such as they are."

The sisters turned their attention to Nessa and ordered her to strip once again. They descended on her with the corset, dress, tailor's chalk and pins. In a matter of moments they'd marked up the dress with white lines.

"That's it then!" Endarie dusted chalk off her hands looking extremely pleased with herself. "Demure, yet enticing, don't you think, sister?"

"Well, as much as these large-boned races can be," Taarie said.

Nessa put her own clothes on, anxious to get away from the shop before she indulged in the murderous fantasy playing through her head. She put a deposit on the dress and they promised to have it on the morrow.

As she and Cordula were leaving the store, a red cloak caught Nessa's eye. It was a deep, glorious red, like wine, or blood. It practically shimmered in the light. She stopped and ran her fingers over the fabric. It was smooth, like silk, and had a lovely sheen. "Cordula… look!"

Taarie saw the two women admiring the cloak and approached them. "Do you like that? The color is called sangoire. Beautiful, isn't it? I made this for another Nord woman, but she never came to collect it."

Nessa reverently lifted the cloak off its hook and put it on. It fell luxuriously around her shoulders and was exactly the right fit for her. "How much?" she asked, hoping she could afford it.

Taarie bit her lip a moment. "Three hundred, since you've been such a good customer."

Cordula laughed harshly. "That's robbery, Taarie. You know you can't get more than a hundred for that. Take that thing off, Nessa. We're leaving."

Nessa's face crumpled. Three hundred was far too much for her to afford, but she'd have willingly paid it if she had the money. She reluctantly took it off and hung it lovingly on the hook.

"One hundred? For sangoire-dyed cloth made from imported Jarring? You can't be serious!" Taarie said.

Cordula laughed harshly. "This is just some polished linen and the dye comes from river betty scales. The color is last year's fashion, Nessa. Come on, let's go."

Taarie knew Cordula was right, about the price if nothing else. "One fifty, but only if you promise never to tell Endarie."

Nessa looked at Cordula with pleading eyes.

Cordula pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "All right, but put a white fox fur trim around the hood."

Nessa watched Taarie's pallid skin flush a most unbecoming color. "Very well," she sputtered. "Fox fur? Endarie will simply combust!" She took the cloak off the hook and glared at the pair. "It'll be ready tomorrow. Now leave before I rethink this!"

Suppressing an enormous smile, Nessa hooked her arm through Cordula's and they quickly left the store.

"Cordula! You're a genius! Thank you!" Nessa folded the smaller Imperial woman into a hug. "I _love_ that cloak."

Cordula shrugged. "If there's one thing we Imperials know how to do it is to bargain." She looked pleased at the Nord girl's enthusiasm. "You'll be all ready for your commander soon."

_~o~o~o~_

Arnbjorn hadn't been idle while Nessa and Cordula shopped. He'd been seeking out whatever information he could find on the commander and his habits. Liore lived in a rather splendid home called Proudspire Manor. He had a small staff of servants working for him including a cook, a housekeeper, and a groundskeeper. His shipping business was thriving and he'd become very wealthy. Liore also had a sizeable stake in the East Empire Company. Several nights a week he spent evenings in a tavern near the palace, frequented by Imperials, especially officers of the Imperial army.

Judging from the looks of the clientele going in and out of the tavern, Arnbjorn would be noted as an outsider. The only Nords he saw going in and out looked to be courtiers, the wealthy, and a few bards, as their college was across the road.

A crazed old man approached Arnbjorn as he was checking out the tavern.

"The flame of my master burns low. Without him we are all lost and forever gray. Please, help him!" The old man tried to clutch at Arnbjorn's shirt, but he pulled away and bared his teeth, growling.

"Get off. Sithis take you and your master."

The old man shrunk away from Arnbjorn, gibbering insanely, careening off in another direction to harass someone else. That was fine with Arnbjorn. Damn good reason to avoid cities for all the beggars and mad men that inhabit them.

As he lurked around the tavern he noticed that the nightshade was in bloom. He smiled to himself. If Nessa were here she'd pluck every flower before he could blink an eye. He considered picking the flowers and bringing them to her but thought better of walking through town with them.

The sun was beginning to set and the hawks that circled over Solitude were returning to their roosts. Hunger began to intrude on his thoughts. He was tempted to slip out of town and hunt. Something about being cooped up in the city drove him a little crazy. He wanted to run, nose to ground, smelling the spoor of his prey. He needed that life and death contest that ended up with his teeth buried in the fur of his quarry. He missed the hot soup of blood that spills from a heart taking its last beat.

He almost swerved for the city gates, but another need pulled him to the inn. _Later, _he promised himself. He purposefully didn't think about how this other, newer need was contravening his hunting instinct.

He ordered dinner, exchanged pleasantries with Sorex and retired to his own room. Watching his window until the guard had made his circuit; he slid it open and went quietly to Nessa's window. It was unlatched which meant she was in. He could feel himself quickening already at that thought. He quietly opened her window and slipped into her room.

Her room was dark, but for a single flickering candle. She was sitting in a chair, wrapped in something… he couldn't quite make it out. She stood up and then he realized it was a cloak. She pulled the hood of the cloak up, over her hair and peeked at him with that shy smile she had. As she stepped into the candle light he saw the cloak was dark red and the deep hood was trimmed with white fur.

"Hm, fancy new clothes, bit." His nose caught a keen new scent. Pleasing. "Perfume?"

Nessa nodded. Her hands clutched edges of the cloak and held it together. "Do you like it?"

Arnbjorn shrugged. "I like you better without clothes." He reached for her and pulled back the fur trimmed hood and unclasped the frog on her cloak. It fell off her shoulders, but she still clutched it close to her chest. The deep red color was a marked contrast to her pale skin. It was plain now there was nothing underneath it.

"Do you remember that childrens' story of the little girl with the red cloak?" Nessa asked, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight.

Arnbjorn's chuckle came from deep within his throat. "I do." He plucked Nessa's hands away from the cloak and it fell, pooling around her bare ankles.

"Goodness, what big eyes you have, grandmother," she recited the well-known fable.

"The better to see you with, said the wolf." Arnbjorn leered at her.

"What a big mouth you have," she murmured.

Arnbjorn grinned, his incisors showing. "The better to eat you with." He grabbed Nessa and nipped her neck as they collapsed together on the bed.

_~o~o~o~_

The hunt was forgotten for a time, until she lay in his arms, both of them sated. She turned her face to his and smiled.

"What is it, bit?"

"Nothing. I'm just… happy. Two weeks ago I begged a woof to rip my throat out. I wanted to die." She sighed and kissed him gently. "Are you happy?"

The question made him want to jump out the window and kill something. He knew the answer, but he didn't like examining it too closely. The room seemed too small. She was too close. Air. He needed air. He pulled away from her and stood up.

"What?" she asked. "Did I say something wrong?" There was a look of alarm on her face.

"I need to hunt." That was all he could think to say. He began to pull on his clothes. He would drop them somewhere outside when he changed to a wolf.

She sat up in bed, her brows furrowing. "I don't understand. There's plenty of food, we're in town. You don't have to hunt here."

He turned on her, a snarl on his face. "No, you _don't _understand." He finished dressing and turned to the window. "Liore frequents the Imperial tavern. Start hunting him there. He lives in Proudspire manor." He delivered the information she would need to get on with the contract.

She grabbed one of his boots held it hostage. "What don't I understand? Why are you angry?"

Arnbjorn ignored the boot and made for the window. Climbing out of it, he disappearing into the dark.

Nessa watched him go. After he vanished into the night she sat down on the bed cradling his boot. Her thoughts went around in circles and tears began to well up in her eyes. _What did I do?_ All she'd done was ask if he was happy. He seemed like he might have been. They'd been making love at every opportunity. All right, he wasn't the sort of man to laugh and joke, but he did smile sometimes and lately it seemed like he smiled more often.

She finally threw the boot out the window and slammed it closed and locked it. "Stupid woof," she said. The anguishing pain of loss and rejection began to overwhelm her. "I don't need him!" She picked up her own boot and threw it at the door. The hollowness inside her belied that statement.

"Gods damn him!" she wailed and pounded at her pillow. "Gods damn him!" Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. "I love him!" She collapsed face first into the pillow and clutched it desperately. "Idiot. Idiot. Idiot!" She had lost herself again and once again had been rejected. She wept into the pillow until it was soggy and she was hiccupping.

_Stop!_

From somewhere she found the resolve to stop crying. Even as her mind wanted to recast and relive everything, seeking a clue into his strange behavior, she refused it.

_I have a job to do._

The thought made her stronger. She got up from the bed and went through the jars of poultices and potions looking for the one with the closed eye. She found it and poured a little into a glass of water and drank it. She wouldn't let this keep her up all night. Picking up the sangoire cloak from where it had been discarded on the floor, she folded it carefully. By the times she reached her bed the world was getting fuzzy around the edges. The pain of Arnbjorn's sudden departure was lessening and sleep seemed like the only constant lover she'd ever had. It dragged at her, pulling her down.

_Is this how it was for Kesh?_ _Not a bad way to go._

_~o~o~o~_

The beast took Arnbjorn completely. He followed a hare in a mad race until it finally escaped into its burrow. Then he was after a doe with a fawn. He let the fawn escape but he brought down the doe. He wasn't hungry, but he savaged the ungulate just to feel the hot blood soaking his muzzle. The moon was huge in the sky that night. He snarled at it, then barked, and howled. Far away, he heard other wolves taking up the call.

_Let them come._

It was his first man-thought since leaving Solitude… since leaving her. It opened the door for more.

_Am I happy?_

He snarled again at the question and surged to his feet and darted into the woods again. _Stupid girl. Stupid question. _He crashed through underbrush, leaving behind tufts of fur, looking for… escaping from… all of it.

Another hare foolishly crossed his path and he was after it, his jaws snapping at its hind-end, but only closing on fur. Pounding through the woods, he cornered the hare who froze, staring its death in the eye.

Astrid understood those times when he couldn't keep the beast at bay. Little surprise since she had her own savage nature. But Nessa… she didn't really know this side of him, not like his wife. You don't question the good times. You don't examine your feeling, you just live.

The hare broke and ran and he let it go. He sat down on his haunches to soak in the wildness of the night and think, something not easy to do as a beast.

This was the crux of the problem: He was happy and he hadn't intended to be. The girl was supposed to be tolerable not someone he wanted to fall asleep with in his arms. She was supposed to be Astrid's girl, not his, and he was supposed to be Astrid's husband. It was going awry in ways he'd never anticipated. There had to be some distance. He'd lost himself, but it all came crashing back when she'd looked at him, so happy and content.

_She's for Astrid, not me._

A gray form crashed through the underbrush and paused to growl at him. Yellow eyes gleamed in front of him and to both sides.

_They came. _

The sounds of a terrible wolf fight filled the air.

_~o~o~o~_

Cordula could scarcely believe the somber young woman who greeted her in her finery was the same one she'd meet two days ago. Nessa seemed distracted and tense, nothing like the cheerful girl she had been. They walked together that evening to the "Legion's Rest", the Imperial tavern that Liore frequented. Just before they got there Nessa's face changed. She began to smile and laugh although Cordula could see there was pain in her eyes. The girl was a fine actress.

They were just in the midst of the dinner hour and Nessa ordered meals for them both and they took seats in the middle of room at a small table. It was a good way to get noticed. And noticed they were. Several Imperial officers sent them drinks, one paid for their dinner, and after they finished dinner, they were both asked to dance.

Nessa had had several tankards of ale and it was definitely affecting her judgment. The attention from the Imperials soothed the sting of Arnbjorn's abrupt leave-taking after they'd made love the night before. She'd been nursing a grudge all day and by the time night rolled around she was ready to have a good time just to spite him.

Liore didn't come to the tavern that night. A handsome young Imperial officer gallantly offered to walk Nessa back to the inn and she let him. She leaned on him, and he supported her with an arm around her waist. They laughed at everything and nothing and he kissed her in front of her door, but she wouldn't let him in. She didn't need Liore to hear about the new girl being an easy conquest.

She went to her room, latched the door and collapsed into a chair.

"He sounded far too young to be Liore," Arnbjorn said.

Nessa jumped, startled out of her drunken reverie by his voice. "You! How'd you get in? I locked the window."

"I noticed. I came in through the door. It was locked too, but I opened it anyway."

Nessa got up and lit a candle and saw Arnbjorn lying on her bed. "Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be out hunting?" Her voice was cold. He didn't think he could just come back did he?

Arnbjorn got up slowly, grunting and holding his arm across his belly. In the candlelight Nessa could see how terrible he looked.

"By Talos, what happened?" she gasped. She sat next to him and looked at the gashes on his hands, neck and face.

"Ran into a wolf pack while I was out last night. Didn't realize there were so many." He chuckled and then winced. "I killed five of them before they ran."

"You're an idiot," she said. She grabbed a half dozen bottles and jars out of the armoire where she'd carefully stored her potions, powders and unguents. "Undress," she ordered him.

"You sound remarkably like Astrid." He pulled his shirt off, showing a long, deep gash on his belly. There were bite marks on his arms. "I heal quickly. You should have seen me last night."

"Then why didn't you come to me last night. I could've had you fixed up by now."

"I thought that might be a bad idea," he admitted.

She wet a cloth and began cleaning his scratches then dabbed them with healing potion. "Why? Because you ran away from me like I had rock joint fever?" She poured an unnecessarily large amount of potion over one deep scratch because she knew it would hurt.

He grit his teeth and moaned. "Easy, morsel."

"Easy… morsel. Pah!" Nessa's fuzzy drunkenness gave way to anger. She began to jab at the scratches with her cloth and wiping them roughly. "Why did you even bother to seduce me if you're just going to run from me?" She picked up the bottle of stinging healing tonic and held it menacingly over the large gash on his stomach.

He grabbed her wrist to stay her hand. "Wait…." He eyed the bottle nervously. "I'll try to explain."

"Do," she said, her tone icy.

"I'm a wolf, bit…"

"So I've noticed."

"Let me finish. I can't deny my nature too long or I get reckless, take on whole packs of wolves, that sort of thing."

Nessa eyed him suspiciously. "You ran out of here like your tail was on fire and you couldn't have just explained that first? You're not telling me everything." She tilted her hand and some of the potion ran into his wound. He flinched, hissing with pain.

"Ow, bit… There's more. Stop." He had to admit there was something in her mood he liked. She was growing up. This wasn't the same shy little girl that would retreat if you looked at her wrong. This girl… woman… wasn't so desperately eager to please as the same one that came to the Sanctuary a few months ago.

"I'm waiting, woof." She still held the bottle but dropped her hand.

"You asked me if I was happy…." He paused, not sure how to proceed.

"And apparently that question is so terrible it chased you off," she scoffed.

"It was, because I am happy. If you ever say I said that, I'll deny it to my dying breath," he growled.

"Being happy is such a terrible thing?" she asked, shaking her head in wonder.

"I don't talk about my feelings, I don't even think about them. Okay? It's not my nature. Just accept that things are the way they are or change them. Don't need to go around _examining_ them. You do that, you find things aren't what they seem."

She sighed and went back to dabbing at his wounds, being a little more careful. "Fine. I won't ask you about your feelings anymore."

He knew he needed to tell her, but he knew this would hurt her. "I didn't mean for it to be like this. We both got too carried away. You're Astrid's girl, not mine. I'm her husband. I think we both forgot."

She paused in her work and stared at nothing. "Then what was all this for? I thought it was to see if the three of us could be… together."

"It was… _is_. I was forgetting the initial reason for why we are together. We forgot _her_." He watched her face, wondering what the blank expression was concealing.

Nessa blinked slowly trying to understand what he wasn't saying. "I haven't forgotten, woof." Did he sense that she had developed feelings for him? "But you're wrong, I'm not Astrid's girl."

The vehemence of that statement surprised him. "You don't love her now? Two weeks ago you were ready to die for her."

"I didn't say that I don't love her." She got up and put the bottle down on a table. She went to the window and leaned against it. No, she still loved Astrid and now she loved Arnbjorn too. She fell in love entirely too easily. She'd lost herself in it only to have her heart broken twice now. No more of that.

"I belong to myself, but love where I will." She crossed her arms over her chest and turned to meet his stare. She felt emboldened by the alcohol and the utter loss she felt when he had left. It had taught her a hard lesson: Keep something back, protect your core. "That's Astrid…." She hesitated, feeling far too exposed. "And you." Having said it she crossed back to him and sat beside him on the bed.

Her hands glowed with restoration magic and she did what she could with the deep gash on his stomach. She gave him a potion to drink. "You'd better go to bed. You'll need your sleep."

He looked at her puzzled by what she'd said. Did she just say she loved him? He picked up his shirt and held it, not putting it on. "Do you want me to stay?" It seemed like a gulf a mile wide had opened between them. One he had made.

"No," she said decisively.

He put on the shirt and went to the window. "We'll talk tomorrow night, Nessa."

She blinked. He never called her by her name. She wondered what it meant. "Maybe. Goodnight, Arnbjorn."

_~o~o~o~_

The next day Nessa decided if she was going to pretend to be Melia she should enroll at the Bard College. She met the garrulous headmaster and he showed her around. She promised she would start taking classes next week, but meanwhile would like to get to know the city better.

Having made her introductions she excused herself and walked toward the Blue Palace. Proudspire Manor was on the way. She slowed down and idled in front of it admiring the garden. If Liore came out, she would compliment him on it, but he never came out. She wandered around town for several hours and finally went to the docks. She had no doubts she looked out of place at the docks, but she wanted to get a look at the man.

It was finally the dinner hour and she wandered back to the Legion's Rest and stopped in for dinner. She looked around the tavern and saw an older man sitting with what looked like an Imperial officer. Suddenly Nessa froze. The officer was General Tullius. He had been supervising the sham trial where she had nearly been beheaded.

_Gods! What if he recognizes me?_

Then she thought it was very unlikely he would remember that girl in rags. Tullius's interest had been in Ulfric. She was just one of his soldiers, or was supposed to have been. No, there was no way he could remember her. Still… it made her nervous. The terror of that day in Helgen was never far away.

When the server came to take her order she got the special of the day and a bottle of mead. "Who are those men at that table?" she asked quietly.

"Oh! That's Commander Liore, and General Tullius. They're old friends," the barmaid said. She took Nessa's order and returned with a steaming plate of food and a mug of cold ale.

She ate her dinner and took occasional glances at the pair of Imperials. Once she caught Liore looking at her and she smiled shyly and looked away quickly.

Staring at her dinner, she pretended to possess a shyness she no longer had. While she studiously avoided eye contact, a bard began to play _The Age of Aggression. _She was getting sick of hearing that song. They played it _everywhere_ in Solitude. In fact, with General Tullius in the tavern, this was the third time the bard had repeated the song.

The last bit of meat pie disappeared off her plate and she quaffed the last of her drink. _Should I leave? Do I dare approach the two Imperials? Perhaps I could pretend to be an awestruck by Tullius. Or I could pretend that I recognize Liore. _She was considering all her options when the barmaid returned to her table with another drink.

"The gentleman you were inquiring about earlier has sent you a drink and is paying for your supper," the barmaid winked at Nessa and sat a tankard of Black-Briar mead on her table. "They'd like you join them, if you wish."

"Oh!" Nessa smiled at the barmaid and turned another shy smile toward Liore's direction. She daintily wiped her mouth then walked to the table with the two older Imperials.

They both turned to watch her coming; both had friendly, welcoming smiles on their faces.

"My thanks, gentlemen," she said softly.

"Please join us," Liore asked. "I believe you're new to Solitude?"

Nessa felt her face flushing. She didn't like talking about herself, especially considering that everything she would be say was a lie. "Yes, sir. My name is Melia Eriksdotter."

"We'd be honored if you'd join us," Tullius said. He got up and pulled out a chair for her.

She could really feel her face heating up now. _What if he recognizes me?_ She sat at the table and glanced shyly at Liore. He was smiling broadly and looking at her with interest.

"I'm Caius Tullius," the general said, he held out his hand and Nessa placed hers in his. He brought it up to his lips and brushed it with them barely. "I think I know why I recognize you now."

Her thighs tightened, ready to eject her out of her chair and run for the exit, while adrenaline surged through her body and her heart raced. "Oh? I don't believe we've ever met." _Gods preserve me… _That day in Helgen flashed before her again and she wondered if she might end up beheaded in Solitude now.

"I was in Whiterun recently. I'm sure I saw you there," he smiled at her warmly. "Please, call me Caius. My companion here is Calvus Liore, one of my most trusted advisors."

She relaxed at last and smiled graciously. "Perhaps you did see me there. I do remember hearing you were at the hold." She turned her smile on Liore. "Pleased to meet you too, sir."

"Calvus will do, lass." He also took her hand but just shook it.

"What brings you to Solitude, Melia?" the general asked.

Nessa looked at the general wondering why he was so talkative. It was Calvus she wanted to engage in conversation. "I'm enrolling in the Bard College, sir… Caius."

"A bard?" Liore said. "I told you so, Caius. She has the look."

"Just because a girl is pretty doesn't make her a bard, Calvus," he replied. He turned to Nessa. "Can you sing?"

She shook her head. "Not well, sir. I do need some lessons, that's for certain."

Calvus Liore shook his head. "That's what they go to school for, Tully. Not every bard pops out of the womb with a golden voice."

Nessa laughed and smiled warmly at Liore. "You have the right of it. I am a sorry singer, as yet. My bardly ambitions might be beyond me, but I am determined to try my best."

General Tullius put his hand over Nessa's. "Pah, I refuse to believe it. A girl as fetching as you must have a fine voice. Let me hear you sing _The Age of Aggression._"

Nessa's heart flipped wildly in her chest. She hated that song and had never really paid close attention to the lyrics. "Well, really… I would hate to disappoint you, sir. My singing skills are…."

"Nonsense, girl." General Tullius stood up and motioned to the performing bard to come to their table. "Play _The Age of Aggression_, lad. This girl is joining your college and I want to hear her voice."

"Yes, sir!" The bard struck a few opening chords on his harp and paused, waiting for Nessa to begin singing.

Nessa fell silent and took a long swig of mead. "I'm not so good at lyrics," she said quietly. She madly racked her brain, trying to recall the lyrics. It was a drinking song, wasn't it? About soldiers, bravery, and such?

"We drink to our men, both short and long."

She paused, thinking quickly of something that would rhyme.

"For the age of aggression is not very fun."

Tullius and Liore looked at one another and exchanged a meaningful look. Nessa began to panic and it made her mind go completely blank. _What the hell is next? Ummm… why are the Imperials here? Because of Ulfric, right?_

"We'll squish Ulfric's head and stomp on his liver."

That definitely wasn't right, but it fit the music.

"With grit and courage his blood will flow downriver."

_Ah! The refrain… how'd that go? Something nasty about Ulfric._

"You're bad, bad Ulfric, you did really bad things.  
>When you die we'll laugh and we'll…hmmm…hmmm… sing!<br>We're the fighters of the Imperium and we battle all our lives.  
>Because Ulfric's Stormcloaks steal all our… chives."<p>

Words abandoned her midway, but it rhymed. _Chives? Why chives?_

The bard's harp trailed off, unable to follow Nessa's singing any longer. "Well, that was… different."

Tullius and Liore stared at her a moment then burst out laughing.

"I don't know, my dear," Tullius picked up her hand and squeezed it with his own. "I think that might be the best rendition of that song I've ever heard." He turned to Liore. "We'll squish Ulfric's head and stomp on his liver?" He wiped away tears of laughter from his eyes. "Brilliant, dear Melia!"

Liore nodded. "Yes, that was quite entertaining."

If Nessa hadn't been flushed before she certainly was now. She knew she'd made an absolute fool of herself no matter how gracious they were being. Her confidence deserted her and she stared at the table top. "Oh no, please. It was horrible, but my father wants a bard in the family so… here I am."

Liore and Tullius exchanged another glance and then Liore rose. "Pardon me, my friend. I'm an old man and I can't carry on like I once did. If you'll excuse me, and you too, charming Melia." He made a polite bow to her and winked at Tullius. "Don't forget what you owe me, Tully. I did see her first."

_He's leaving?_ Panic shot through her. _What does Liore mean?_ "I hope my singing didn't chase you away, sir. If I promise not to sing again, perhaps you would stay?"

Liore laughed heartily. "No lass, your singing was the highlight of my evening. I am afraid I must go."

"If that was the highlight, it must have been a very bad evening," she said, hoping to change his mind.

He picked up her hand and brushed it with his lips. "Nonsense, Melia. I expect you to sing for me again soon. In fact, perhaps Tully will invite us both to dine with him and then we can listen to your rendition of the _Age of Oppression_."

"You're fishing for an invitation, Calvus," Tullius said gruffly. "Very well, tomorrow night. You just like Maven's cooking."

"What's not to like? Maybe I'll propose to your housekeeper this time. I think she likes me. I'll get her to cook for me one way or another." Liore smiled at Nessa and turned to leave. "I'm expecting you there, Melia. Don't disappoint us."

Nessa shifted in her chair, not sure what to do. The wrong man had left. "I should probably go." She was still terrified he would remember her from Helgen.

"Of course, my dear." Tullius's smile was warm. "I will walk you home. Solitude is fairly safe, what with the Imperial army here, but I won't have you walking home alone at night."

His tone didn't leave it open for debate. She stood and gathered her cloak, but he took it from her and draped it over her shoulders. They walked out of the tavern together. Nessa was all for galloping as fast as possible back to the inn, but the general had a slow stroll in mind. Not to be rude, she matched his pace. They walked slowly and he asked her questions about herself, which she answered but deflected the attention onto him. Finally he stopped walking and turned to her.

"It seems were both far from home and alone." He took her hand and kissed it gently. "I have a wife and children, of course, but a soldier gets lonely, a general, particularly so."

_Oh gods, no_, Nessa thought. _Not him!_

"I find you very charming and beautiful. I can't offer you marriage and I don't know how long I'll be here fighting this damnable war, but perhaps we could come to some sort of arrangement?" He continued to hold her hand, as if he were proposing to her.

Her mouth went dry. The man who would have watched her being beheaded a few months ago was proposing—well, sort of—to her now. It was… hideously ironic. She felt sick to her stomach. "I… We just met tonight, sir. My father expects me to become a bard…."

"Of course, dear Melia. You can continue to go to school when I'm not in Solitude." General Tullius was a military man, used to making quick decisions, but he understood how overwhelming such a thing would be to a young woman. "You don't have to decide tonight. I am a patient man."

Nessa relaxed a little. She could put him off indefinitely.

"By tomorrow night is soon enough. When you come to have dinner with Liore and me, you can tell me then." He put an arm around Nessa. "I promise, Melia, you'll never want for anything. I'm a generous man."

_Tomorrow night?_ She shivered, even though it wasn't that cold out. Unfortunately that gave the general reason to pull her closer.

"You're cold? You Nords usually seem quite impervious to the chill. Perhaps you have some Imperial in you."

_Not yet, I don't. _It struck her as funny and she nearly broke out in a hysterical laugh. "Perhaps if we walk, I'll warm up." She just wanted to get back to the inn, to… no, not to him. She was still angry with Arnbjorn.

"As you say," the General said, tucking her hand around his arm and resuming their stroll across Solitude.

He talked on of all he could do for Melia. There was a cute little house he owned where she could live. He'd hire a housekeeper so she could focus on her studies. A generous monthly stipend would ensure she wanted for nothing and he would even pay her tuition at the Bard's College.

When they finally reached the inn they stopped just outside.

"I will consider it, General Tullius…"

"Caius, Melia."

"Caius." She smiled at him and held out her hand, thinking a friendly handshake was in order.

The general looked at her hand a moment but shook his head decisively and instead kissed her quite vigorously.

The nausea that threatened to overtake her earlier came back. His kiss was a battle charge at a well-defended fortress. Nessa put her hands on the general's chest and pushed him away gently. "I'm… Not yet, Caius. This is so sudden."

"Ah, it is so rare to meet a reticent maiden in these times. I forget myself."

_You mean a frustrated assassin._ Nessa blushed and deposited a quick peck on the general's cheek. "Goodnight, Caius. Thank you for the escort."

"I'll send a note around tomorrow with the details of dinner." He gave her hand one more squeeze and left.

The inn felt like a true sanctuary after this disastrous evening. Nessa bought several bottles of mead from the innkeeper and took them to her room. She intended to drink until she passed out.

_~o~o~o~_

_To Be Continued…_

_**Notes: **__This chapter got rather complicated and took much longer than I thought it would. I keep thinking I'll get out of Solitude and back to Sanctuary with each chapter, but then something else happens. It's a quagmire, I tell you! I did listen to the request that this assassination not be so easy… bwahahaha! Poor Nessa._

_My thanks to Heiwako (who awesomely reviewed every chapter!), Biff, Zevgirl, Janele, TheOtherLaChance and Carrp for your reviews. Getting them means a lot to me. By the way, I really recommend Heiwako's stories, if you like the Dark Brotherhood theme._

_Writing is having to share time with Mass Effect 3, which I'm finally playing. So… review and shame me into writing. :)_


	17. Chapter 17

**Solitude**

Arnbjorn hunted again; this time no wolves attacked when he howled his challenge. They'd learned their lesson, much to his disappointment. He was spoiling for another fight, something, anything to take his mind off… things.

He knew he should go back to town and talk to Nessa, try to straighten out things, but he hadn't worked out this conflict within himself yet. Tomorrow night, perhaps, after a full day apart, maybe that would restore some perspective to both of them. Still, the memory of her as that red cloak fell to her feet fired his blood. He howled again, hoping the remnants of that wolf pack would meet his challenge.

_~o~o~o~ _

The sun was barely down the following day when he returned to the city, sneaking through the gathering shadows to Nessa's window. She was dressing; he could see her, although it was too dark outside for her to see him. He watched her pulling on small clothes. They must be the new ones she bought, and they hugged her form fetchingly. Then she put herself into a corset and struggled with the laces. He marveled again at her flexibility as she put her dress on and managed to button all those tiny buttons in the back.

The thought that she was going out to meet someone else made him seethe, but that emotion just reminded him that things had gotten out of hand. How could he have such strong feelings for another female when he was married?

_What was it she said two nights ago? "I love where I will."_ He paced outside her window wondering what she meant. _Could she love us both?_ It wasn't right. It went against the natural order of… things. But didn't Astrid love her? She wouldn't admit it, of course, but he knew.

Growling softly to himself, he knew he was the problem. It had been hard enough to admit he loved Astrid but once he did he knew it was for life… his life. He always thought that was exclusive; there was only room for one woman in his heart.

_Ridiculous._

He stopped his angry pacing and went back to the window. She was putting on her new cloak now; she'd be gone in a moment. He thrust upward on the window pane, trying to slide it open, but it wouldn't budge.

_Dammit, she locked it. _

He rapped on the window to get her attention. She jumped, startled, but came to the window and unlocked it. "Don't lock me out, bit," he said gruffly.

"I was just leaving. I don't want to keep the Imperials waiting," she said bitterly.

He noticed the drawn look to her face. Something was wrong. "What is it?"

She thought about keeping it to herself, but she needed a friendly ear. Arnbjorn might be toying with her affections, but he did seem truly concerned. "The _wrong_ Imperial wants to bed me." She flung her hands up in frustration. "General Tullius!" She shivered with revulsion.

When she said the man's name she went pale and looked near to tears.

"Bit, sit down. Tell me what's happening," he said.

She sat on the edge of her bed, trying not to wrinkle her cloak. "I met Liore and Tullius last night and sat with them. Liore left and Tullius propositioned me. Apparently they're good friends and came to some agreement about who should get me." She said the words with distaste.

There was something unspoken. This was more than a plan going awry. "We'll figure it out, bit. They're friends, so presumably they spend time together? Perhaps being close to this… Tullius isn't so bad. You'll have an opportunity to serve his friend a drink, right?"

Nessa nodded miserably. "Tullius asked me to become his mistress. He wants an answer tonight."

There was something missing. She'd been ready to do this very thing with Liore, why was Tullius such a problem? "What is it, bit? I thought you were prepared to do this as Astrid suggested?" He couldn't bring himself to say what he wanted, that she was prepared to whore herself out for Astrid.

Nodding, Nessa nervously twisted at her cloak. "General Tullius…," her voice faded to a hoarse whisper. "He was there. In Helgen."

_Helgen? _She'd spoken of that town before, that night she had a bad dream. "What happened there, bit?"

She shook her head. "Can't talk about it. Not now." She knew she'd fall apart badly if she started to relive that day. It wouldn't do to show up for dinner with eyes red from crying.

"We can still find another way to do this," he offered. "Your idea of slippery stairs wasn't bad."

Nessa shook her head and looked defiant. "This is my job." She set her jaw grimly. "I can do this."

She left and shut the door behind her. Sitting in her room, he thought about what the life of an assassin was doing to her. For him, there was little difference between being a mercenary and an assassin. Someone just pointed him in a direction of a target and he would kill it. It wasn't the same for her. She had been a girl with no real identity but the one she'd taken from the thieves, and now from them, especially from Astrid. His wife had determined that Nessa would seduce her targets and kill them subtly. That was a harder job than his.

_~o~o~o~_

_I can do this. _Nessa's grim demeanor slowly changed as she walked to General Tullius's fine manor. Her face relaxed and she breathed deeply of the fine sea breezes. She'd been to see Cordula earlier in the day and had an embarrassing but necessary discussion with her.

"_If one isn't feeling… romantic and one ends up…," she said, gesturing helplessly with her hands, trying to say what she needed to say without actually saying it, "… doing that. You know, it hurts. What can one do to make it less painful?"_

_Cordula had just looked at her completely mystified for a moment. "Oh! Are you talking about sex?"_

_Nessa turned red and nodded._

"_Ah, I see. Well, I've got just the thing. It is a secret from the ladies who do that sort of thing professionally, but known by every woman with a less than pleasing husband." She laughed lightly. "Really useful stuff made from spriggan sap and mora tapinella spores. It's clear, not messy at all, lasts a long time and gives a pleasing warming sensation. Some women swear it makes their wifely duties enjoyable. It's called spriggan oil."_

"_Where do I buy it?" Nessa asked. "I need some right away."_

"_So, I take it you've had some luck with Liore?" _

_Nessa shook her head. "Not precisely. The path is a little more roundabout. It's General Tullius who has taken a fancy to me." _

"_Really?" Cordula's voice rose in pitch. "Tullius! Wow… old Tully hasn't taken a mistress since he's been posted to Skyrim. You must've really made an impression."_

"_Yes," Nessa said dryly, "I can hardly believe my good fortune."_

_Cordula laughed again. "I suppose that makes things more difficult for you though, but Tullius isn't that bad. I'd do him."_

"_I wish you would," she said. "I don't like him. Where can I get some of that oil?"_

"_I'd better buy it for you, dear. It might cause tongues to wag if General Tullius's mistress is buying spriggan oil."_

She paused outside the general's fine manor and thought of things that made her smile. It would not do to show up looking like she was headed to her own execution. _Why did I think that now? _Imagining Taarie and Endarie in rags and whipping them through town cheered her up. She fingered the packets of powder she had in her dress pockets: two doses of a potent sleeping power. Given enough, someone would fall asleep and never awaken.

The dinner was an elaborate affair; the general had quite a household of servants to look after him. There were so many courses that Nessa lost count. She didn't have much of an appetite to start the evening, but after the third course she was already full, but the food kept coming. She learned to take just a little each time.

The general seated Nessa on his right and Liore on his left. It was just the three of them that night. Nessa felt very self-conscious but managed to acquit herself well, watching the two older men to see how they behaved. She kept up a lively end of the conversation, always turning questions away from herself to the two men. The alcohol flowed freely and both men were getting a little red faced by the end of the dinner. Liore's laugh was becoming raucous. If she were lucky, perhaps she could get a moment alone with Liore's glass. Better still if Tullius would drink too much and be unable to act on any amorous intentions.

"Are you enjoying dinner, my dear?" Tullius asked her, putting his hand over hers and looking at her solicitously.

Nessa smiled brightly. "Of course, who wouldn't? Two such accomplished dinner companions and such wonderful food!" She almost softened a little; the general did seem truly concerned about her welfare. Perhaps he wasn't quite the monster she'd imagined, but then the image of him at Helgen lording it over their execution returned and so did her revulsion.

"Your house overlooks the harbor, doesn't it?" Nessa asked, knowing it did. Perhaps if they went to the balcony she could find a way to slip the contents of the packets into Liore's drink.

"Yes, a beautiful view it is too," Liore spoke for Tullius. "A night like this with the moon full and the sky clear, should be very pretty. You should show the Melia the view, Tully," Liore said, sipping at his wine.

_An opportunity? _Nessa thought. Perhaps if they took the wine with them, she could offer to refill their drinks and discretely drop the contents of a packet into Liore's wine. She was afraid to drop them both in at once, if he got too big of a dose he'd drop unconscious where he stood. Well, she'd have to play it by ear.

"Why don't we all go out on the balcony," Nessa suggested.

"Good idea," Tullius said. "I'll have Maven brew us some mulled wine we can sip out there."

"Ha!" Liore raised his glass to Nessa. "You still owe us a song as well, lass."

Tullius rose and the three of them walked out to the balcony. "Bring your glasses. We'll hear her song on the balcony."

They walked out together onto the balcony and sat at a stone table, sipping their wine and chatting. Liore was getting pretty drunk and that made Nessa hopeful. After a time, she saw that Liore's glass was empty.

"Ah, you need more wine, Calvus. Give me your glass, I'll get more for you," Nessa offered. She hoped he'd let her refill it, rather than wait for the mulled wine.

"Ah, you're a good lass," he said. "I shouldn't have let Caius steal you from me."

"Nonsense, Melia, I have servants for that," the general said.

"Oh, don't trouble them," she replied. "I can walk in there and get him more." She hoped to deflect him from insisting that the servants attend to them by planting a quick kiss on his cheek. "Do you want some too?"

He looked pleased at the gesture of affection, hoping that she'd answer him in the affirmative when he asked for her answer this evening. _If everything went well…_ He afforded himself a rare smile, thinking of bedding the girl. To that end though, he'd better layoff the drinking otherwise he'd end up disappointing his new mistress on their first night together, providing she consented, of course. He flicked his hand toward the dining room, dismissing her.

Nessa walked leisurely into the dining room, not wanting to give away her nervousness. One packet now would make him seem very drunk. The second packet would send him into an endless sleep. There was a servant clearing the table when she got back to the dining room.

"Is there anything you need, ma'am?" the Dunmer maid asked.

"Yes, could you get me a glass of water? I have something in my thoat."

"Of course, ma'am. It'll be but a moment."

"Take your time," Nessa said smiling kindly at the girl. _Please…_

The maid left and she quickly emptied the first packet into Liore's glass and then filled it with wine. She let out an almost inaudible sigh of relief as she swirled her finger in the glass to dissolve the powder. _That will get me half-way there._

The maid returned with the water and Nessa accepted it. She went back to the two men and handed the wine glass to Liore and sat next to Tullius and sipped her water.

Liore was in the middle of bragging to his friend about his stake in the East Empire company and how he was squeezing out one of the other major stakeholders by buying out some of the smaller owners.

"Falco was livid when I bought out Destri Lavos. That puts me one minor buy under him. If I can offer a fat enough buyout to someone else, I'll be one of the top three owners." He laughed loudly and slapped his thigh.

Tullius chuckled with him. "I can bet Falco was mad. You're lucky he's in Raven Rock, otherwise he'd probably throttle you. The man always did have a temper."

Nessa suddenly realized who it was that had probably hired them: The owners on the council of the East Empire Company, most likely.

Liore puffed out his chest. "Let 'im try. I might not be as young as him, but I know how to use a sword. Eh?" He picked up his wine glass and took a long draw. "Ahhhh," he said and wiped his lips off. "Damn good vintage, Tullius." Then he looked Nessa. "You owe us a song, Melia."

"I want to hear more about your strategy with the East Empire Company. Do you really think you can sit on the council for them?" She'd been having good luck directing them to other topics all night; it wouldn't hurt to make another deflection.

"Why Melia," Tullius scolded her, "are you trying to get out of singing for us tonight?" He smiled at her. "That isn't going to work. Sing your song for us."

"I remember the lyrics of this song worse than the other song," she admitted. "And we've no harp accompaniment."

"No excuses, girl. Sing!" Liore was getting more obnoxious the more wine he drank.

Nessa stood up and leaned against the balcony wall, trying to draw inspiration from the beautiful night.

"All right, _The Age of Oppression." _She cleared her throat. "La," she sang. "La, la, la," she tried to find what might be a good starting note. Finally she settled on something that seemed like it might be in the middle of her pathetic range. "_The Age of Oppression"._

"You said that already," Liore complained.

"Right. La, la, la." She hunted again for the right note and then figured she should probably start. She could have learned all the right lyrics, but she though they rather liked her spontaneous song from the prior night, so she had spent all day making up more _spontaneous_ lyrics.

We drink dry vermouth,  
>To the... bitter pecan,<br>For the days of depression are now coming on.  
>We'll ride out the horses from the stable we own,<br>With saddle and bit we'll ride every… roan.

All blame on Ulfric, you killed the high king!  
>Why would you do such an awful thing?<br>We're the Nords of Skyrim, and we like our mead,  
>If you interfere with our drinking you'll certainly bleed!<br>But this land is ours and we'll see it drunk dry,  
>For the mead is quite good, let no one deny.<p>

A loud snort issued from Liore and Tullius was trying to repress a laugh.

"Gods be praised, child, you are the worst bard that ever was," Liore said, slurping down more wine and nearly choking on it with his laughing.

She eyed Liore who had definitely slowed down on his wine drinking. He had half a glass yet and the mulled wine would be here soon. He had to get it down. She seized on an idea.

"A toast then!" She raised her glass. "To the worst bard in all of Skyrim: me! Bottoms up." She drained the water in her glass and watched as Liore took a healthy swig of wine. _Keep going, old man. _He still had a good deal of wine left when the warm, spiced wine was brought out a few minutes later, but he was definitely starting to look drunk.

They drank the mulled wine and conversed. Liore kept blinking and his head would jerk from time to time.

"You all right there, Calvus?" Tullius asked. "You can't handle your liquor like you once did, old man. We haven't gotten to the High Rock Whiskey yet."

Shaking his head, Liore grumbled. "I'm not a youngster like Melia here. Can't put it away like I once did, Caius." He squinted at the general, trying to figure out which of the three was the real one. "You can't put it away like you used to either, so don't gloat."

Tullius laughed at his friend and clapped him on the shoulder. "Trust me, I know. That's why I don't even try."

"Maybe I should call it a night," Liore said. He groaned and pushed himself to his feet, staggering. He caught himself on the balcony wall and laughed. "Well… if I can find my way to the door."

_No! _Nessa didn't want him to leave yet. He needed to have the other packet of power, or he'd just fall asleep and wake up feeling slightly hung-over on the morrow. "You can't go home like that, Caius," she said. "Let me walk you home." Once home with him, she'd give him a glass of water and slip him the second packet of sleeping powder.

"You're a kind-hearted girl, Melia," General Tullius said, "but Caius needn't go home. He's slept off more than one jag here. Your room is always ready, old friend," he said to Liore.

"Thanks, Tully. I think I'll take you up on it tonight." He turned and began to walk toward the door and stumbled, nearly falling.

"Careful!" Nessa warned him, wishing he'd just topple off the balcony and make her job easier. Now, how was she going to finish the job if he was staying here? She'd have to know at least which bedroom he was staying in. "Let me help you to your room."

She rushed to his side and held him up. Tullius came to the other side and between them both they walked him indoors. They went up a flight of stairs and down a long hall with Nessa carefully counting doors as they passed. The fifth door on the left was the one they opened. She and the general helped Liore to the bed. Nessa removed his boots and recoiled from the smell. His feet stunk something horrible and she felt grateful that she hadn't had to sleep with the old toad.

"Thank you, dear Melia," the commander said, his speech heavily slurring. "You're a good girl. Tullius needs someone like you."

"You go to sleep, Commander Liore. You'll be fit as a fiddle tomorrow, I'm sure," she replied. She took his hand and patted it gently. "Sleep well."

Her thoughts were scattered. How could she complete the job now? _Break back into the estate and think of something or… what if she didn't need to leave?_ The thought almost made her shudder. _I can stay. _She looked at Tullius and took a deep breath, forcing down her revulsion for the man.

"Let's go back out to the balcony," the general said and they walked out together. He handed her a cup of hot mulled wine and she sipped it very slowly. "It's just as well Calvus is abed for the night. You and I have something to discuss, if I recall." His speech was still clipped and military, even when he was wooing his mistress.

His voice, well she remembered it as he condemned Ulfric, the Stormcloaks, and all the others they'd swept up in that ambush. That day, with her right ear pressed against the gore-covered, wood block, the executioner with his axe held above his head and his eyes…they weren't pitiless, they were gleeful, and that was the last thing Nessa thought she would see in this world: a man who truly enjoyed his job and his obvious delight in beheading her. Nessa took care to school her expression.

"Melia?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, Caius. I was a million miles away. Would you repeat what you said?"

Moving closer to her, he put his hand under her chin and directed her eyes into his. "I'm awaiting your answer, Melia, to what we discussed last night."

She knew what she had to say. There was no way to finish this job tonight unless she stayed, but the touch of his fingers on her face made her want to turn and run, instead she smiled sweetly.

"I answer yes, Caius." She swallowed hard, searching for words that were utter lies. "I would be honored to share your life with you here."

He pulled her face to his and their lips touched. It wasn't a terrible kiss, but Nessa's revulsion for the man wouldn't allow her to find anything redeemable about it. His arms wrapped around her and she thought of Arnbjorn and that made it almost bearable. Thank the gods she'd put oil that Cordula had bought her into a tiny bottle in her pocket.

He broke off the kiss to speak. "You'll stay tonight, then," he decided for her. "Tomorrow you can move your things to the little house I bought."

"That sounds perfect," she said, thinking it was actually far less than perfect… but it was _possible_ this might work out.

He kissed her neck softly and nuzzled her ear. "I knew you'd say _yes_. I had servants getting it ready all day today. Come upstairs." He took her hand and pulled her back into the house.

He led her back the same way they'd gone to put Liore into a guest room. Once again, she counted the doorways carefully noting where his was in relation to the commander's. She'd simply wear him out with sex and while he slept she'd figure out some way to finish off her target.

He pulled her into a room larger than many homes she'd seen. There was an enormous fireplace, huge windows covered with thick, expensive draperies, decorative tapestries, and the bed… the bed was enormous. It looked like you could sleep with your horse in that bed. Nessa couldn't help but gasp at the sight of it.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I've never seen a bed so big."

"I think you should lie in the center of it, with your arms and legs spread. See if you can touch the edges." He began to fumble at the buttons on the back of her dress.

"Hold that thought, lover," she said playfully. "I need to use the chamber pot. Where is it?"

He pointed her toward a door. She kissed him quickly and gave him a smoldering look and then retreated to the little room. She fished the special oil out of her pocket and uncorked the bottle. Apply a generous amount to her fingers, she used it on herself. It certainly felt genuine. He wouldn't be able to tell that her arousal wasn't real.

She rejoined him and he finished unbuttoning her dress. It slid to her feet in a puddle of blue cloth. He unlaced her corset slowly, drawing out the anticipation a little, but it shortly joined the dress on the floor. He made a pleased sounding noise as he saw the filmy underthings she wore underneath. His hands skimmed over them, pressing them against her flesh. The pink of her nipples showed through them. There was just a touch of wickedness to her wearing these silky small clothes. It seemed at odds with her youth and naiveté in a way that was most erotic.

"Take those off," he said. His voice was getting huskier, but he still issuing orders like a general.

Nessa hesitated a moment and then took them off. He was busy shucking his own clothes. He wasn't a bad looking man. If he wasn't the man who had presided over her near-decapitation, she'd have had little difficulty with this, but as it was she was still afraid he'd remember her. She crawled onto the bed, into the very center, and spread out her arms. Her hands missed the edges of the bed by an half an arm length on each side.

The general's mouth quirked up on one side. The girl was certain biddable. He disposed of the last of his clothes and joined her on the bed. Her body was surprisingly athletic for a bard. She was more angular than curvy, despite how she looked in her clothes. No matter, a few months in his care and she'd plump up nicely. He looked forward to their nights together in her little house when he could visit her. He'd train her to take proper care of him. Well, those details could wait… right now he wanted to see what this filly knew about pleasing a man.

She didn't hold back. She took charge early on, caressing him lightly to inflame his desires. She wanted him to work hard for his completion. They switched from one position to another just as he began to sound like he was close. That would back him off from his peak and he'd have to begin building again.

"Yes! Oh, gods. Yes, Caius!" she murmured in his ear. "Faster! Oh please… Harder!" She urged him on like she would have asked Shadowmere to race Arnbjorn. The harder he worked, the sounder he would sleep.

Tullius was sweating like race horse as he thrust into the girl, his breath sounded like the panting of a score of hunting dogs. He wasn't about to stop and change positions again, no matter how she begged. She wrapped her surprisingly strong legs around his waist and her hips met his with each thrust. He finally reached his peak and collapsed onto her.

The sweating, sated general lay with his head against her breasts. If he'd seen her face at that moment he might have seen the icy hatred in her eyes. Instead he felt her fingers weaving tenderly through his sweat-soaked hair until he worked up the energy to roll off her. She slid her body against his and looked into his face, smiling eagerly.

"That was fun, Caius. Let's do it again," she said cheerfully.

Caius laughed and Nessa could hear the exhaustion in it. "No, sweetling. I'm not as young as I once was. Once a night is enough." He kissed her lightly. "Be a good girl and get me a glass of water. There's a robe in the armoire over there. You can slip that on and go to the kitchen. Our… activity left me a bit parched."

A break, at last! "Of course, Caius." She leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead. Then she rummaged through the armoire and found the robe. She picked up her dress and corset from the floor, secretly going through the pocket to get the last packet of sleeping draught, and then laid the clothes carefully over a chair. To him it would look as if she was simply being tidy, but a pinch of the powder in his water would ensure he slept very soundly. The rest she could give to Liore… somehow.

She trotted downstairs to the kitchen and a servant fetched the water. She went upstairs, pausing in a dark corner to mix a bit of the powder into it.

Caius took the glass from her when she reached the bed and gulped it thirstily. "Ah, that's good. Well, let's get some sleep, my girl. Tomorrow morning, we can do this again. He slapped her on the rump as she crawled back into bed.

Nessa giggled, but it sounded entirely wrong to her ears. She laughed because it was expected, not that there was anything that actually amused her. Her sweat slickened skin smelled of him, a sickening, fusty smell. It wasn't the clean, sharp scent of Arnbjorn's sweat. Tullius smelled of stale alcohol, smoke, and garlic. She usually liked the smell of sex, but she desperately wanted to run to a window and let in fresh air. The dampness under her was just another uncomfortable reminder of what had just transpired. She shuddered to think of his seed inside her, perhaps quickening, and longed to drink the tea blend to prevent such that, but it was in her room at the inn.

Still, she played her part, curling up next to the general and shutting her eyes. She didn't dare go to sleep, but she didn't think she was in any danger of that, truthfully. This entire night had been horrid. Making love to a man she hated… feeling his thick, liver lips on her body… pretending to laugh… she couldn't wait to get away from this city… from him.

It wasn't long at all before his breathing settled into a steady rhythm, but she would need to wait longer. She could still hear the staff wandering about mansion. So instead she thought about her life: Arnbjorn and Astrid, actually. She wondered what he would think when she didn't come home tonight. Would he be jealous or had he somehow talked himself out of those feelings he'd seemed to be developing for her? She wanted nothing more than to go back to the inn and bury her face into his chest and try to erase Tullius from her mind and body. As she was reflecting on her situation she realized it might look suspicious if she left town without a word after Liore dies.

_Gods, how do I escape this town without seeming guilty? _Nessa began to panic. She hadn't thought she might have to spend more than one night with Tullius, but leaving on the same day his best friend died in his house might be suspicious. She could feel her muscles tighten with tension at the thought of having to stay with the man even another night.

_I can't do this._ Eyes stinging with unshed tears, she began to tremble with emotions she didn't dare unleash. She wiped her eyes and tried to think of something else, anything else.

It seemed to take hours but finally the house was perfectly quiet. She listened to Tullius's steady snoring and edged out of bed. The robe was still where she'd left it so she picked it up and put it on. The remainder of the packet of sleeping powder was where she had stashed it. She picked up the glass the general had used and quietly slipped out of his room.

One…two doors down the hallway on the left was Liore's room. She silently opened the door and let herself in, closing the door behind her. Liore's room smelled like stale alcohol and garlic. The old man was lying on his back, his mouth open, snoring rhythmically. She watched him for a few minutes to convince herself he wouldn't wake.

She gave his shoulder a little shake to awaken him. She could make up a story that Tullius had sent her to him with water to drink. He'd drink the remaining powder and, hopefully, that would end him. But the shake did not arouse the slumbering man. She redoubled her efforts and shook him harder, yet he still snored. Finally she lightly slapped his cheeks. He almost roused, but his eyes slid shut and he was unconscious again a moment later.

_Oh gods!_ Nessa swore at the sleeping man. "Wake up, damn you!" She slapped his cheeks again but he didn't awaken. Panic almost set in. If she couldn't awaken him, how would he drink the sleeping potion necessary to kill him? She couldn't just pour it into his mouth; it'd make a mess and might tip people off that he hadn't died of natural causes. She was about to pinch him viciously but then remembered a bruise would be suspicious. Then she thought she could pour the powder directly into his mouth, perhaps below his tongue. He might end up swallowing it in his sleep.

She got out the packet and worked the man's mouth open. He snorted briefly but didn't awaken. She saw his tongue glistening in his mouth. Reaching in, she raised his tongue with her fingers, making a terrible face of disgust, and she poured the contents in and then let his tongue fall back into place. "Ugh," she said softly, and wiped her fingers on his blankets.

Time seemed to crawl as she waited for the drug to take effect. Eventually she thought, perhaps, his breathing was slowing, but she wasn't sure. She stood up and began to pace back and forth, worrying over how she would get away from Tullius, worry about whether or not this plan would even work. What if she'd slept with Tullius and Liore didn't die? To think she might be stuck in this town having to play the role of Tullius's mistress made her throat thighten. For the first time in a long time, Nessa began to doubt she was cut out to be an assassin.

It seemed like an hour or more had passed and Liore still drew breath. His breathing was shallower, she was certain now, but the man still lived. What if the general awoke and came looking for her? She had to end this. Her eyes alighted on the pillow next to Liore. She picked it up and placed it carefully over his face. This would leave no bruising, no signs of struggle. She held it firmly, hoping to seal his mouth and nose completely. Finally, there was a shuddering tremble that went through the man and he stopped breathing. Not trusting him to be truly dead she held the pillow in place until her arms began to tremble with fatigue. At last she lifted it. There was a bit of drool and some of the white powder had tracked down his chin. She cleaned him up and sloshed a little water into his mouth to flush away any powder that remained.

"Talos, I owe you one," she whispered. Then she realized the deity she should be speaking to was Sithis, but the thought made her shudder. She fed the packet to the embers in his fireplace and plumped the deadly pillow she used to kill him, putting it back in the spot next to the dead man. She cast her eyes around the room and made sure everything looked normal.

"Your gods be with you, Imperial," she said quietly, patting him on the cheek. She crept back to the general's room, her skin crawling as she slipped back into bed with him. Finally allowing herself to close her eyes, she did eventually fall into a light sleep despite her efforts to stay awake the remainder of the night.

_~o~o~o~_

"Wake up, sweetling." General Tullius leaned over the pretty Nord sleeping next to him. She looked so young and sweet when she was sleeping. Her eyes cracked open and she smiled sweetly at him. He would have made love to her again, but he'd overslept.

"Good morning, Caius," she said shyly, blushing in the morning light. She kissed him gently. "Time to get up or…?" she raised an eyebrow in an unspoken query.

He laughed at her implied suggestion, delighted that she was eager to resume their intimacies. "No time this morning, my poppy. You should go to the inn and gather your things and take them to the house where you'll live. I'll be along as soon as possible after my morning meetings. Perhaps then…."

Nessa's smile grew broader. "Of course!" she chirped, anxious to get away and happy she didn't have to endure him again this morning. She hummed as she got dressed and gave Tullius another kiss.

The general loathed breaking off from the kiss, but he had work to attend to. He smiled at her again. "I'll see you in a few hours."

She left the mansion as quickly as she could. All evidence of sweetness and gaiety fell away as she directed her dragging footsteps back to the inn. When she next saw the general he'd know his friend had passed away in the night, in his sleep. She'd be expected to be a doting, sympathetic mistress, standing by her man while he grieved.

_Arnbjorn, _she thought. Her heart ached as she trudged into the inn. She flagged down Sorex and ordered a bath, giving him a sovereign to make sure it came promptly. She wanted to scour away all traces of Tullius. If she could shed her skin she would.

Opening the door to her room, she saw a fire was burning and blinked, momentarily surprised. Then she searched the room further and saw why: Arnbjorn was asleep in her bed, or had been, he was awakening now.

"Bit? You're back." Arnbjorn yawned and his nose twitched involuntarily as he smelled another man's scent on Nessa. He smelled sex. The skin on the back of his neck became taut with anger. His instinct urged him to lash out at her, at whoever had had her. A feral growl started in his throat, but he stopped himself. _This is what she was sent here to do, _he reminded himself.

"He's dead," she said flatly.

Something in her expression alarmed Arnbjorn. He flung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. "What is it?" He crossed the room to her and put out a hand to touch her cheek but she pulled away. "Bit?"

A knock at the door came as she was about to speak. "Hide under the covers," she whispered. "That's my bath."

Arnbjorn dove for the bed drew the blankets over himself. Nessa arranged the wooden screen to block the view of the bed and then let the servant in. They filled her tub, emptying steaming buckets of hot water into it and left.

"You can come out now," she told Arnbjorn. Then she remembered her other need for hot water. She took the small cauldron sitting beside the fireplace and poured some water from the ewer into it. She rummaged through her alchemy ingredients and found Dragon's Tongue. She measured out several large pinches and then considered and added another one just to be certain and threw them into the pot which she hung on the hook over the fire.

He watched her brewing the tea knowing its purpose. "Tullius?"

She stared at the fire and nodded, her eyes unfocused. She shook herself out of her reverie and wordlessly undressed. She left her clothes where they fell on the floor and stepped into the tub, not minding that the water was near scalding. Wishing she had sand instead of soap, she scrubbed her skin obsessively.

Watching her, Arnbjorn began to worry. He'd never seen her acting so withdrawn. He truly began to worry as long red lines began to emerge on her arms as she used her nails to scrub herself.

"Stop!" He knelt beside the tub and caught her hands in his. "Bit… talk to me. What happened?" Whatever poison was working inside her it had to come out or she would destroy herself one way or another. That place she had made reference to, Helgen, that had to be at the center of it.

Shaking her head she stared at the water, still mute.

Frustrated with his inability to get reach her, he shook her hard. "Tell me, Nessa. What happened? Was this something to do with Helgen?"

She finally looked at him, her face pinched. "Yes." She took a deep breath and held it. "Gods!" she hissed, starting to shiver despite the scalding water.

"Tell me, bit," he said more gently. "Let me help you with this."

It seemed to get through to her. She looked at him wondering at his offer of help. She'd never told anyone about Helgen. She was half afraid speaking of it again might bring it all back and this time she might break. There hadn't been anyone she had trusted enough to tell. Not even kind-hearted Rune at the thieves' guild. She hadn't stayed in one place long enough to really make a friend good enough to confide in. Now Arnbjorn was demanding she reveal herself to him.

She closed her eyes a moment, taking a deep breath she told him about Helgen. Everything. How she'd woken up in a cart, hands bound, head aching, only remembering that she had come over the rise of a hill and into the midst of a battle. She'd fought, of course. The enemy was whoever attacked her, and this time it was men and women in Imperial armor. She tried to edge to the outside of the fray to make her escape but someone had flanked her and smacked her on the head with a sword pommel.

"They carted us to Helgen to execute us all, not caring that I'd just blundered into their ambush." Tears started to track down her cheeks; she didn't even know she was crying. "They hated us for being Nords, the Imperials did. Even if I wasn't one of the Stormcloaks on their list they decided I should die anyway."

Arnbjorn listened patiently but when she paused he urged her on. "Go on, bit."

"They called me second," she gasped as the memory overcame her for a moment. "The head from the first was in the crate my head was to fall into. The block was still covered with blood and bits of bone, little splinters from his neck, I suppose. They made kneel and put my ear on that bloody block…." Her voice trailed off.

He put a hand on her shoulder to remind her that she was safe with him.

She turned her face to look at him. Seeing him helped ground her in the present and she gathered her courage to go on. "I looked up at the face of the executioner and realized the last thing I'd ever see was a pair of hateful eyes."

"But it wasn't."

"No." Some of the tension in her face resolved. "There was… a dragon."

Arnbjorn's eyebrows shot up. "A dragon? We'd heard they'd returned but… you saw one?"

Nessa nodded. "He attacked and I got away."

"How does Tullius figure in this?" Arnbjorn asked.

The tension returned to her face. "He was there. He _saw_ me. He pronounced our death sentences and was going to watch each and every one of us be beheaded." She hit the water with her fist causing a little splash. "He didn't give a damn whether we were innocent or guilty. We were Nords. Stormcloaks or not, that was enough to convict us." She shuddered again. "I was so afraid he'd recognize me, that he'd haul me off to the block again. I _hate_ him."

He watched her as she shivered in the hot water wondering how to draw the poison out of this wound. He picked up the soap and began to gently wash her. "He didn't recognize you. Back then, you were a dirty, ragged Nord, a Stormcloak to him. He saw only what he wanted to see." She watched his face as if desperately wanting to believe him.

"I don't mind dying just… not like that." Her hand crept up to her throat unconsciously. She would never forget the man whose blood had soaked the block. "To have to see him again, be plunged back into that nightmare." Her stomach heaved at the thought of Tullius touching her.

"Well, you're done with that. Do you want to leave now?" he asked.

Sobs suddenly burst out of her, all the pent up emotions of the last few days. "I can't," she said, her voice strangling within her. "I'm his mistress. If I leave now, the day after his friend dies, it'll seem suspicious."

He wrapped and arm around her shoulder to comfort her, not minding that it was soaking his shirt. "Shush, now. Let me handle this. I promise you won't have to spend another night with the man." _Damn Astrid._ It was a foolish idea to try to make this girl into some sort of courtesan; she wasn't cut out for it. He was going to say his piece about it when he returned. "Tell me about your cover story."

Nessa rubbed the tears out of her eyes and told him all the details she'd told Tullius. "What will you do?"

"Don't worry about it, bit. I've got it covered." He ignored her dubious look and went back to bathing her. He even unbraided her hair and washed her hair. "You need to put what happened in Helgen behind you, bit. I don't know whether I believe the gods really meddle in the lives of men, but it seems that someone was looking out for you that day. Now, if that's the case, then there must be a reason why."

She turned to look at him, her eyes still looking wounded. "It was just luck."

"No, that wasn't just luck. Dragons don't come back from the dead and just happen to interrupt a beheading by plain old luck, morsel. That sounds like it might be destiny, or something."

"If it was, then it was Ulfric the dragon rescued, not me. Why would anyone want me? I'm just… I'm no one important."

He tugged on a wet lock of hair to chide her. "Not yet. Well, to some of us you are."

She looked into his face her eyes wide. _He thinks I'm important?_

"But the way destiny works, bit, you start off as nothing and become something. At least it happens like that in all the stories. Like the story of Aevar Stone-Singer. You've heard that story?"

"Yes." In the orphanage, Grelod never read to them, but she'd heard it being told by the other children.

"He was nothing but look at all he did. Dunk your head." He waited for her to put her head under the water and he combed his finger through her hair to get rid of the soap. "But he saved the Skaal. So you see, all heroes start out as nothing."

It touched her that he'd bathe her and tell her stupid things just to cheer her up. He even said she was important to him. She caught his hand with hers and looked him directly in the eyes. "Thank you, Arnbjorn. I… am very glad you came here with me."

He looked flustered for a moment and then got up. "Where's your towel?"

"On my bed," she said.

He brought it back to the tub and wrapped it around her as she got up. "Feel better?"

She nodded. Yes, she felt better. Arnbjorn's silly tale of her being rescued for a reason cheered her up. Tullius hadn't recognized her and he wouldn't. She trusted he'd get out of here today. Drying herself off in the towel, she told Arnbjorn where the little house was that she was moving into.

"When is Tullius coming by?" he asked.

"A couple hours he said."

"All right. Don't bother unpacking, bit. You won't be there that long."

She smiled at him as he left her. Helgen might always haunt her, but at least she knew that if she should die someone might care this time. Strangely, that made it easier to bear.

_~o~o~o~_

Delaying as long as possible, she finally toted her bags over to Tullius's little house where he planned to keep her. She left her bags packed on the bed and inspected the house. It was a nice little house, a little bigger than Breezehome, the house she had been offered in Whiterun. She noted the bed nearly took up the entire room in the bedroom. Tullius must have a thing for big beds.

_Maybe he thinks it makes him look bigger. _

Nessa snorted loudly at her thought. She wandered around the house and inspected the larder. It was well stocked. There was a bookshelf with books. She pulled one out and began to read. It was an expurgated account of Barenziah's life. She laughed again. If you took out all the sex and thievery, Barenziah wasn't quite so interesting to read about.

She was nearly nodding off in the chair when the door to the little house opened.

"Melia?" General Tullius called her name from the house's little living room.

"Be right down," she called. She put the book away and came down the stairs to see him sitting on a chair waiting for her.

"Sit here, my dear," he said to her. "I have some unfortunate news."

"Oh?" She sat down next to him and took his hand in hers. "What is it, Caius?"

"Calvus has died. He didn't get up this morning and when I went to check on him, I found him."

Nessa schooled her face to a look of shock and sadness. "No! He seemed all right last night, didn't he? Maybe he was a bit wobbly when he went to bed, but I thought it was the drink." She drew a deep breath and continued. "I just… it seems so impossible, Caius."

The general patted her hand to comfort her. "I know, it is a shock, but he wasn't a young man by any means. The Divines have him now."

"You two were close friends?" she said. "I'm so sorry, Caius."

"Thank you, my dear. Well, what's done is done." He stood up and looked around the house. "How do you like the house?"

"It's nice. Thank you, Caius. It'll be better than living in the student quarters in the Bard's college."

Caius was about to respond when there was a sharp knock on the door. "Were you expecting someone?"

She shook her head and went to the door to answer it. She swung open the door to see Arnbjorn standing there.

"Melia, your father sent me. He's been injured and is failing fast. He needs you home. I've been sent me to escort you."

"Thorek! What's happened?" she cried out, feigning alarm.

"One of the cross beams have gone out askew on the treadle. Crushed his legs. The healers of Kynareth have done all they can for him," Arnbjorn said.

Caius looked at Nessa, frowning. "This day has brought too much unwelcome news," he said.

Nessa only allowed herself a very fleeting, secret smile at Arnbjorn, and then she turned to Caius with a grief-stricken expression. "Oh, my dear Caius, I… I don't know what to do! My father… he needs me, but," she hesitated and looked at him sadly, "I think you do too."

Caius looked at the man who came to collect his mistress. "Would you leave us for a while? Come back later tonight and we'll have an answer ready for you."

Arnbjorn's suppressed an angry growl. There would be _no_ later. He intended to get Nessa free from the general _now_. He turned to Nessa and frowned. "Your_ father_ depends on you, Melia. This can't wait. As it is, he may be gone before you return. We must leave immediately. You little sister needs you too."

Nessa could barely contain her elation. Arnbjorn's story was compelling. Only the most heartless, scheming bitch would deny her father's dying wishes. She turned to Tullius, blinking her eyes rapidly. "Oh! He's right. I can't possibly stay with… with… My father… He can't be dying!"

Tullius pulled her to him and she buried her face against his neck. "Shush, now. The man is right. You need to go back to Whiterun. Just as soon as things are… settled, send word, my sweet. I will send an escort to bring you back to Solitude."

"Forget about me, my sweet general," she said, mentally gagging on the endearment. "I will have to stay in Whiterun and look after my father's business and take care of my little sister, my father too, should he live." Tullius looked rather sad and if she hadn't hated him so intensely she might have felt bad.

"I will come visit you, my dear. I'm sure we'll be coming to see Jarl Balgruuf sooner or later."

"Perhaps it is best if we move on, Caius. Find someone new and forget about me." She kissed him gently on the cheek. "I won't forget you." She turned to Arnbjorn. "Thorek, please collect my things from the bedroom. I hadn't even had a chance to unpack."

The general laid a sweet, lengthy kiss on the girl he had counted a mistress, if only for a short time. When the escort emerged from her rooms with her bags he gruffly cleared his throat and broke up the tender moment. It was clear to Tullius that the father's man didn't approve of what he was seeing. _Fuck that,_ he thought, _I'm the gods damned leader of the Imperial army. _He swept Melia back into his arms and kissed her so deeply it nearly bordered on obscene.

This time the Nord threw open the door and yanked Melia from his grasp. "We're leaving now!" He pushed the girl toward the door.

"Wait!" the general called out. He fumbled at his belt a moment and loosened a heavy purse. "Take this, Melia. Hire the wagon and stay at the best accommodations. Get yourself some new clothes when you get home."

Nessa eyed the purse and flushed red. _Does he think I'm a prostitute?_ She shook her head. "No, Caius, I can't."

Arnbjorn's arm darted out and snatched the purse from the general's hand. "She thanks you, she means." He glared at Nessa and herded her out the door, striding out himself and slamming the door behind him.

The sound reverberated through the empty house. Tullius walked to a large oak rocking chair and sat down slowly. He mourned the loss of his closest friend and a girl he thought he might have come to love someday.

_~o~o~o~_

Well outside of Solitude, Arnbjorn whistled for Shadowmere. He came trotting up to them, looking as hale as ever. What the horse had done while they'd been parted for a week, she couldn't imagine. Maybe he dissolved into an inky tarn and only emerged when called. It was a handy ability, she had to admit. It cut down on the costs of keeping a stable for him.

"You shouldn't have taken the money," Nessa said, feeling as if her sexual favors had been purchased. "I'm no whore."

Fastening their bags on Shadowmere, Arnbjorn snorted with amusement. "Ultimately you bedded him for your job. If that isn't the definition…"

Nessa hauled her arm back and punched him in the arm.

"Ow!" he grabbed his throbbing arm. She looked about to hit him again so he grabbed her arms and pinned them against the horse. "Hey, come on now."

"I am not a whore!" she fumed at him. "I am an assassin. I did what I had to do for my…," her voice broke and tears rolled down her cheeks, "… my job." Her throat grew tight and she could barely speak. "I'm an assassin, not a whore," she repeated.

_Damn, Astrid._ _Damn me for saying that. _Arnbjorn let go of her and gathered her close to him. He stroked her hair and tried to quiet her. "Shush, bit. It's done. You're no whore. I was just teasing. You never have to seduce someone again if you don't want. Not for a contract."

There was truth in Arnbjorn's words and she knew it. She'd prostituted herself just as much as if she'd sold it on the street corner for two septims. "I c…c… can't. Not again." Arnbjorn's words sunk in. He'd ensure she wouldn't have to do this again. He'd stand up to Astrid if he had to. For her. She stopped crying and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Thanks, Arnbjorn."

He carefully wiped the tears off her face, dragging a thumb slowly across her cheeks. Her eyes were as blue as the sky in Solitude. He held her gaze a long moment as her expression softened. Then he slowly moved closer, watching those blue eyes widen in surprise. He kissed her softly.

_Sorry._ The kiss was an apology for running out on her and abandoning her that night. Sorry for saying she was Astrid's girl, not his. Sorry for letting something as simple as his happiness spoil something as good as what they'd shared in Solitude. He didn't know if a kiss could express everything he couldn't say, but he tried to say it with his lips, tongue, and his hands cupping her face.

"I won't let you down again, bit," he said after they broke apart. There was confusion and disbelief in her eyes. He didn't blame her. But he had the entire trip back to the Sanctuary to convince her.

While he finished preparing Shadowmere, he looked up from his task from time to time to see her looking at him. He held her eyes and every look was another apology.

Finally he boosted her up onto Shadowmere and mounted behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"Let's go home."

With that Shadowmere started out toward Falkreath and the Sanctuary. Solitude quickly faded away in the distance.

~o~o~o~

**Notes: **_Holy crap… that was a lot of writing right there! I thought I'd never finish this chapter even though I was very dedicated and wrote every night. I was just determined to get them out of Solitude. Phew!_

_My heartfelt thanks to: Rayven Feather, A Fan, Cheesehead8707, .x, Biff, EllaBea, Zevgirl, Blue Dartwing, PredQueen, TheOtherLaChance, Heiwako, and Skiota for reviewing! Thanks much. It is Christmas when a review hits the inbox. It truly makes my day. Thanks to others for favoriting and following too. _

_I strayed rather far from my original (mental) outline of the story by going so in-depth on these contracts, but I think I'm glad I did it even if my fingers are about to fall off from typing so much._

_Hopefully the next update won't take so long!_

_Thanks always to Zevgirl and Biff McLaughlin who always have good ideas for me on Google+._

_See you all again soon._


	18. Chapter 18

**Sanctuary **

Most of the assassins were back from their contracts. Festus and Veezara were out on another contract and not expected back for a few weeks, but Babette was here. Not too soon, either. She'd heard some of the talk around Falkreath about a string of mysterious murders and Astrid was acting oddly. She looked… nervous. In the near century they'd known one another, she couldn't recall Astrid being nervous: vicious, savage, seductive, even sometimes rather kind-hearted, but nervous? No.

_Why so nervous?_ The little vampire asked herself. Perhaps… well, if she were honest, she might admit to fostering that emotion… but she wasn't.

"_Nessa and Arnbjorn have been gone quite some time," Babette had said._

_Astrid had stared at her map, absorbed in whatever secrets it held. "Solitude is a long journey and the contract is difficult." She looked up and narrowed her eyes at the girl. "Why?"_

"_Oh nothing. It's just…," she giggled playfully, "didn't you mention that Nessa thought Arnbjorn was attractive? Then you kicked him out of your bedroom and he's spent an awfully long time traveling with her. Do you really think your wolf is that steadfast?"_

"_So? It's Arnbjorn. The man is as faithful as a… stump."_

"_As bright as, don't you mean?" Babette's eyes shone wickedly._

"_Don't insult my husband. I do love him. Wolves mate for life, I might remind you."_

"_He's only half-wolf, I might remind you!" _

There'd been a string of such conversations. Later on Babette took another approach.

"_If she's sleeping with your husband, do you think she's forgotten about you?"_

_Astrid looked up, her patience very frayed. "What are you going on about now?"_

"_Ha!" Babette laughed. "You haven't forgotten about her, don't pretend you have. If she's sleeping with Arnbjorn who would you be jealous of the most?"_

_Astrid threw a book at Babette. "Get out of here! Stop… whatever it is you're doing. Go play with your dollies!"_

It'd been so worth it. Astrid had done nothing but glare at her ever since. She'd love to push a little more, a little harder, but Astrid might kick her out again if she went too far. She'd learned that lesson long ago. If there was one thing Babette hated, it was being on her own. She'd tried to leave several times, but she just couldn't fit in anywhere. Children were stupid, and adults just wanted to adopt her and then she'd end up killing them. It never worked out.

Once she tried living with other vampires but they were way weird. They had their own vampire guy they practically worshiped. He was mean as hell and every now and then he'd stake someone out on the ground and leave them in the sunlight. _No thank you!_ She had never tried to find another coven of vampires to live with after that, but came back to the Sanctuary after that and had been quite content for many, many years.

The time Astrid had kicked her out, she had lasted two weeks before returning and tearfully begging forgiveness. Astrid was a soft touch when it came to Babette. No matter what happened, the simple fact remained that Babette was Astrid's parent, in a way. They were still close friends, and bound by that bond, even a century later.

_~.~.~.~._

The thought wasn't a new one to Astrid, but it was one she'd pushed away every time it bubbled up to the surface. _What if Nessa and Arnbjorn were lovers?_ Well, she'd told Arnbjorn not to expect her to be faithful, why would she expect him to be? But he always had been. _Wolves mate for life, _he had told her. It was illogical, but the thought of Arnbjorn with someone else sent a sharp pang of anxiety through her. On the other hand, if he were sleeping with Nessa…

_Sithis take Babette!_

The little vampire had led her into a trap. Now she couldn't help picturing the two of them together: Nessa's pale, slender beauty with Arnbjorn's bulky mass. _Ridiculous. _The thought of them together unsettled her in more ways than one. It infuriated her, but how could she be angry? She'd rejected Nessa and had thrown Arnbjorn out of their bedroom.

_He could smell her._

That thought made her jealous all over again. She was completely scentless since becoming a vampire. It was handy when evading angry villagers or the Vigilant of Stendarr. At least it rendered dogs unable to follow their trails. But Arnbjorn's keen sense of smell would delight in the smell of a woman's arousal. From time to time he'd comment on it.

"_Gods, that man is an idiot. That woman is so ready and he has no idea", _he had told her a number of times when they'd been in cities.

Even Astrid had appreciated her smell during their short time together. She tried to refocus on her work but her mind kept painting a scene: her big, wolf of a husband and that sweet, girl, trembling on the cusp of womanhood as he impales her. She could hear her cries, the ones she had once caused, and his soft growling in her ear.

_Gods!_

She slammed her quill to the table and went to the common room. The training dummy took the brunt of her aggression and frustration. _Forget it, _she willed herself. The session left her panting, but no less edgy. She saw Babette watching her, a secretive grin on her face. There was only one way to get back her equilibrium. She headed up the long corridor to the Sanctuary door and went out, dissolving into the dark of the night. Someone would pay with their life for her restlessness.

The door slid shut with a deep grinding sound. When it had fully closed, Babette finally indulged in one long, wicked giggle.

_~.~.~.~_

The weather turned unseasonably cold south of Solitude, especially in the mountain passes. There were advantages to such cold weather, the bandits and outlaws that had harassed them on the way north were staying somewhere warm. The disadvantage was… it was damn cold. Nessa and Arnbjorn rode together just to stay warm. Shadowmere didn't mind the weather. He just lowered his head and plowed through whatever came his way.

"Things will get complicated now. Are you ready for this?" he asked her on the last night of their journey before arriving at Sanctuary.

She poked at the fire with a stick, staring pensively into the coals. "Maybe they won't."

His laugh sounded almost like a bark. "Oh, you don't know Astrid as well as I do." He got up from where he had been sitting and sat next to Nessa, sharing a log seat with her. He kissed her lightly on the temple. "Let's go to bed, bit."

Their lovemaking that night was slow and he was very tender with her. This might be the last time they'd be together like this, just the two of them. Perhaps it'd be the last time ever. Despite his growing feelings for Nessa, and hers for him, if Astrid took him back but rejected their proposition, he would give her up. Astrid was still his wife and he would stand by her, always.

She too wondered at his tenderness. _Is this goodbye?_ He'd taken such care with her that last night. She'd never peaked so many times. And now that she was nestled in his massive arms, he was staring into her eyes as if he were imprinting them into his memory. She might have tried to get him to express what he was thinking, but the one time she'd done it he had run from her. It was a guessing game, trying to figure out what Arnbjorn was thinking and feeling.

His fingers traced down her jaw and pulled her mouth to his in another tender kiss. No, this was decidedly strange. It made her sad that the next day would change all this. So odd to think that when they'd left Sanctuary she'd been so sad over losing Astrid. The last few days she'd been trying to remember what it had been like with her. That first time, when Astrid had shown her the pleasures her body could give her, came back with a rush. Weeks ago she never would have imagined herself in this position with Arnbjorn. She had been so absolutely enthralled with Astrid that she couldn't have even looked at him. But it had been him that had saved her from his own wife. Or rather, Arnbjorn saved her from herself. She would have gladly let Astrid suck her dry and Astrid had been just as much ensnared in that desire as she was.

It would get complicated now. Arnbjorn was right. She settled into his arms and fell asleep, dreaming of someday knowing an uncomplicated love.

~.~.~.~

Homecoming: the word is usually one that makes a heart jump with gladness, not race with worry. But the looks exchanged by Nessa and Arnbjorn, just before she murmured the passphrase, were anything but joyful. They walked, single file, down the long corridor and stepped into the common room together.

They were both still bundled in snow-dusted furs. Nessa's cheeks and nose were apple red from the cold. Perhaps it was the length of time she'd been gone, but she looked older to Astrid. She didn't seem quite like the unsure, slightly gawky teenager that left. Of course, it was bound to happen in this line of work. Assassination was corrosive. It would quickly etch away youth and innocence. She also didn't look as miserable as she had when she left, but then that was shortly after Astrid had spurned her affections, for her own good, of course.

"Welcome home, my husband," she said. She nodded to Nessa. "And to you too, Nessa. How fare your targets?"

"Dead. Both of them," Nessa said. _Does she know? _She glanced at Arnbjorn and he returned her look. "It went… well."

That glance spoke volumes to Astrid. There was something in her eyes when she looked at him, a softness that she'd seen before, but for her. Babette was right. There was something between them. She felt a surge of anger, then confusion. _What am I supposed to do with this now?_ She glared at Arnbjorn a moment than turned her attention to Nessa.

"Unpack," she said, "rest a little. We'll talk later." Turning to her husband she said, tersely, "Come with me."

_And so it begins_, Arnbjorn thought as he followed his wife back to her office. He paused for just a moment to see Nessa sneaking another look at him. He winked at her. _Courage, bit, _he tried to convey to her.

Nessa passed through the main room and nearly fell when Babette ran to her and hugged her hips. "You're back! I'm so glad. It was terribly boring here. Let's go to your room and you can tell me everything_. _Simply _everything_!"

"Maybe later, Babette," Nessa said giving the girl a brief hug. "I need to settle in first."

Babette followed her to her room chatting the entire time. Nessa wasn't even sure what she said, she was thinking about Astrid and Arnbjorn and wondering what was happening. Somehow—she didn't know how—she was certain Astrid knew.

"So tell me about the kill, sister! Did you seduce them?" Babette asked.

"What?" She looked up from the pile of dirty clothes she'd unloaded on the bed.

"You're not paying attention! You seem rather… preoccupied." Babette's cheeks dimpled. "Something on your mind, perhaps? Confession is good for the soul, the priests say."

"No! I... I'm just tired. It was a long journey. If you don't mind, I'd like to rest."

Babette stood up and placed her fists on her hips, her eyes flashing. "You used to be so much fun! I thought we were friends!"

Suddenly Nessa's temper flared. "Babette, I really don't have the patience for this right now." She drew herself up and towered over the child-vampire. It was hard to remember that Babette was older, much older, than she was especially when she acted like this. She threw open the door to her room and stood there, waiting for Babette to leave.

Babette burst into tears. "I hate you, Nessa! You're mean!" she cried and ran from the room. After she rounded a corner she burst into laughter. Nessa still didn't know half her tricks and theatrics. She would have to make a bet with Gabrielle that Nessa would come to her and apologize and perhaps even spill a few secrets.

All Nessa wanted was to fit in somewhere and feel like a part of something. Growing up without a family had made finding one as an adult more important. A_re all families this difficult?_ She'd go after Babette later and apologize, but for now she'd finally won some time alone to get cleaned up and rest. She closed the door and shut everything else out for a while.

_~o~o~o~_

"Well, tell me about it _husband_," Astrid said when they were finally alone. She didn't ask for exactly what she wanted to be filled in on; she'd leave it up to him. Perhaps he would spill it voluntarily.

"It went well. We killed the Captain in Rorikstead and Liore in Solitude. Nessa did it the way you wanted. Which brings me to the next topic: No more of this seduction nonsense. It took a terrible toll on her and it was completely unnecessary."

Astrid watched him coolly. He was certainly rather exercised over that. "I have to ask myself, dear _husband_, why you would concern yourself over the way she kills her targets?"

He growled quietly and shot her a glare. "All of a sudden you seem keen on reminding me of our marital status, when just a few weeks ago you kicked me out of our bedroom."

She inhaled quickly, as if she'd been punched. Walking around him she eyed him warily. "You're changing the subject. Why this concern over her? You couldn't give a rat's ass if we asked an assassin to lick the boots of a target if it gets the job done. Now all of a sudden you don't want to see one of _my_ assassins fulfill a contract in some particular way." She stopped circling Arnbjorn and looked at him challengingly. "This is most curious."

He turned to face her as she circled him. He knew her well enough to know she was suspicious, but he also knew she enjoyed games like this. She wanted to trap him into a confession, but, by the empty space between Sithis's legs, he wasn't going to play her game. "Because I happen to like the girl, and yes, I had her."

It was gratifying to watch his wife freeze in place, for once taken by surprise. Her mouth gaped open a moment. She hadn't expected an admission to come that easily. Even though she'd been preparing herself for it since she saw them, she still wasn't ready for it. _Arnbjorn unfaithful?_

"She seduced you?" she said. No, that didn't sound right. She wouldn't have, she was still enthralled.

"No. I seduced her."

She shook her head. "No. You? What are you trying to pull, Arnbjorn? You've never even seduced me."

He shrugged. "I'm not stupid, Astrid. I never needed to seduce you. You always took what you wanted."

"True." She was hurt, and a little angry, but he had a point: she had thrown both of them out. It made sense that they sought comfort in one another. "Is this how you feel when I've had lovers?"

"How should I know? You warned me you wouldn't be faithful, but I married you anyway. I'm the one that lied," he said. "I told you I would be faithful, always."

She sat down on their bed and put her chin in her hand, resting an elbow on the knee. "Do you love her? Should we just end our marriage? I can't imagine you'd do this for someone you didn't love."

Arnbjorn sat down beside her on the bed and wrapped an arm around her. "I did do it for someone I love. For you."

"What?" Arnbjorn was losing his wits. _He seduces a girl and says he did it for me? _"Arn, what in the void…"

"Shut up," he growled. "Let me talk."

"Talk." She looked at him suspiciously.

"What happened between you and Nessa left you both miserable…"

"So, what, you fucked her to cheer her up?" She folded her arms and pulled away from him.

"I said, let me talk," he growled.

She sighed but remained quiet.

"I knew the reason you kicked me out was because you were hurting. You loved her and you couldn't have her, so you took it out on me." He ignored her frown and went on. "I don't pretend to understand why; maybe it was just easier to shut love out of your life entirely." He shrugged. "Nessa was ready to die. I ran into her in the forest, she begged me to kill her."

"Maybe you should have," she said. "Maybe I should have," she added. "I never expected her to sleep with my husband."

"It was my idea, Astrid."

She stood up from the bed and stared at him, shaking her head. "All right, so you've said, but why? Is this just to get back at me?"

"No. To get you back. You're a miserable bitch when you can't get what you want…"

Her frown turned into a scowl. "You dare!" Her hands clenched into fists.

"You are and you know it. But I thought of a way out. A way you could have the girl and not kill her too. If you drink from her, you won't be able to stop, but if I'm there, I can stop you. The three of us together, Astrid." He got up from the bed and took her hands in his. "I went to Solitude with her to see if I could like her enough to see it through."

Her look went from fury to astonishment. "You're proposing that we three… sleep together?" She paused a moment then shook her head. "So, I take it you decided you like her enough to sleep with her."

"I like her fine." He pulled Astrid close to him and held her gently against his chest.

He couldn't see it, but her brow furrowed again. Arnbjorn was rarely gentle like this. He'd changed. Was Nessa responsible for this? She pulled away from him.

"Do you love her?" she asked.

"Do you?" he countered.

Astrid had lived for nearly two months trying to put such thoughts behind her, now it was all being resurrected and shoved back into her face. She still remembered the sweet seduction and the tender feelings she'd had for the girl. Was it truly love? She didn't know now.

"Maybe," she said. "I might have. I don't know." She crossed her arms and stared into her husband's face, looking for truth. "Do you?"

A single eyebrow slid up and he smiled wolfishly. "Maybe. I'm not sure. What I do know is that I love you, and if this brings you back to me, then there's no question that I did the right thing by breaking my vow to you."

Such admissions from Arnbjorn were rare. He hated talking about feelings, love, and all that. They were a pretty good match that way, Astrid didn't like it much either. So, he was proposing that the three of them be "together", whatever that meant.

There was some merit in the proposition; it wasn't anything she'd tried in the century of her existence. It would be interesting. She snorted out loud thinking how Babette would be pleased by such a scandalous arrangement. She paced back and forth across the room thinking about it.

"She agreed to this?" she asked.

Arnbjorn blinked and nodded slowly. "She never would have slept with me if I hadn't presented this as an option to getting you back."

"Does she love you?" she asked.

Arnbjorn considered it a moment. _Did she?_ He remembered that night she seemed so happy and content in his arms. Neither one of them had been thinking of Astrid. _"Are you happy?"_ she'd asked him.

"I don't know," he said. That might be a lie, he knew, just like his answer about whether he loved her or not. It didn't matter, Astrid would always come first, whatever his feelings for tidbit. "Tell me," he said, pausing and running a hand nervously through his hair. "Do you love me still?"

She was trapped. She'd pushed away all the tender feelings she had for anyone. Now Arnbjorn and Nessa were ganging up on her, trying to drag her back into that emotional morass._ Should I?_ Perhaps it was better to stay aloof and run her guild. Let Arnbjorn have Nessa for as long as she held his interest.

_Never. _The thought of losing her wolf to another decided it for her.

"I love you, Arnbjorn." She reached out and brushed his cheek with her fingers. "Always," she said quietly. "We'll try it. I'm not promising anything, but I'll try it."

He moved in closer and bent to kiss her gently. "Good. Pushing us away solves nothing." He trailed kisses down her throat and they toppled together onto the bed.

_~o~o~o~_

Nessa unpacked, washed up, sharpened her blades and cleaned her armor. When all was in order, she paced the length of her small room. _What would happen now?_ Would Arnbjorn just abandon her for his wife? She pictured them together and she was speared with jealousy. Had this whole thing been for nothing? Had she recovered from her loss of Astrid only to lose Arnbjorn now?

Walking the length if her room over and over, exhaustion finally defeated anxiety. She lay down and slept. A myriad of troubling dreams plagued her rest. Dragons, executioners, Ulfric's sad eyes, and all the people she'd murdered paraded through her dreams.

"_Be at peace, my daughter,"_ a woman with midnight hair whispered to her.

The troubling dreams ceased and she slept deep and long.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Thank you TheOtherLachance, Leonidas Raistlin Knowitall, Zevgirl, Biff McLaughlin, .x, Procastination Possum, Carrp, Skiota, EllaBea, Steffii07, Rayven Feather, Heiwako, Cheesehead8707 for the reviews. It was an early Christmas present for me! _

_Now that they're out of Solitude the writing is coming along faster. This is the first chapter I've posted with less than 2-3 weeks since the prior one (in a long time). Yay!_


	19. Chapter 19

**The Void**

The Night Mother awoke with a sharply drawn breath. Long had she slumbered in the peaceful dark of her lord husband's demesnes, but her children needed her. A sharp cry had pierced her sleep and she had felt the torment of one of her own. Remorse, fear, and uncertainty haunted the dreams of one of her assassins. She didn't always hear the psychic distress of her children, but when she did she did as any good mother would do; she reached out to her child and calmed her. _Be at peace. _The young creature settled then and slept tranquilly. Her lord's work was harsh and destructive to the minds and souls of their children; it was her job to soothe their conscience, erase remorse and guilt, ensuring souls could be delivered without destroying the agents of change: the Dark Brotherhood.

This young one was particularly troubled. Assassination did not sit lightly on her shoulders as it did for many. The Mother's children should be recruited earlier and taught to kill without remorse. Once, a child as old as this one, would be turned away unless she had a predator's instinct, and this one did not. Not every child needed to be a killer to serve her and her lord; some served in other ways. Her Keeper, the caretaker of her earthly remains, for instance. She sighed thinking of the Keeper. He had gone quite insane, yet he was dedicated to his task with unmatched single-mindedness.

Night Mother sat up in bed, stretching and yawning away the residue of a long, peaceful sleep. There was work to be done: her lord's work and her own.

"She awakens!" A servant spoke the joyful words to another and soon the muffled bells were tolling throughout the Void announcing the Mother's awakening. Those sworn to serve her, attended her arising. A shimmering, silver-gray robe was wrapped around her slender form and her obsidian hair was brushed to gleaming perfection.

The Mother looked around her castle, admiring its subtle beauty. Many feared the Void as a place of nothing, but Sithis, her lord husband was the Creator and he had created this beautiful place for her. She slipped her feet into a pair of silk slippers and padded outside to her gardens.

This place shifted between twilight and night. The gaudy colors of a setting or rising sun never tainted its subtle beauty. Fireflies flickered like golden jewels at night. The moon was even mindful of shining too brightly. She crossed her gardens to the narrow bridge that spanned a dark, reflective lake and walked to the meditation garden. There a willow tree wept gray-green foliage gently touching the top of the glassy lake. A stone bench, covered with moss, waited for her patiently through the years. This place never changed as Sithis had promised her on the day they wed. She stared out over the lake.

"I've slept too long," she said. "My children have suffered, died, and now they forget me."

"True," a voice said and a black-skinned man with red eyes emerged from the shadows of the meditation garden. "Their leader has abandoned the ways and scoffs at your memory."

"Shadowmere," she chuckled quietly and made room on the bench for him. "It has been a long time, my old friend. Have you seen them?"

He smiled and nodded. "I have. They still do Sithis's business, but they do not follow the ways."

"Tell me of them," she commanded the Daedra.

"The leader disdains the tenets. Her husband follows her blindly as do many of the others."

"What of the girl?"

"The little vampire?" Shadowmere asked.

"No, the Nord girl," the Mother said. "I dreamed of her."

"Ah, yes. Her presence has changed everything. She doesn't know who she is," the Daedra said.

"Change," the Mother said, smiling to herself. "She does my lord husband's will then, for he causes change without design. Chaos."

Shadowmere nodded. "True, but there are others meddling with this one. I hear whispers amongst the Dadrae. Some of the princes wish to claim her."

Scowling, the Mother frowned and said, "Who dares? She belongs to Sithis!"

"Who doesn't? By the alphabet: Azura, Boethiah, Hircine…"

"Stop. Meddlers, all of them! We shall see about that," she said, a frown marring her perfect features.

"Even the Aedra wish to claim her, I hear," he drawled, amused. "Quite remarkable."

"Why?" the Mother asked. "You've met her, what is so special about this girl?"

Shadowmere smiled and blinked his ruby eyes. "Who doesn't wish to control a Dragonborn?"

The Night Mother delivered a sharp, vicious kick to Shadowmere's calf. "A Dragonborn! Couldn't you have come out and said so?"

He chuckled, his voice warm, rich and as dark as the night around him. "If you wish to have this one, you'd better act. There is prophecy at work here. What she does could spell the end of Tamriel or ensure the continued existence of the mortal plane."

The Mother tapped her teeth with a white fingernail and thought. _Which would please Sithis more: all those souls? Or would he grow tired of the sameness of the void without the children of Tamriel creating chaos?_

"I thank you, Shadowmere. You've done well keeping your eye on my children while I rested. Continue to do so," she said. She rubbed his forehead and patted him on the nose as if he were a horse.

"What, no sugar cube? No apple?" he said with a wry smile.

"Go. Keep an eye on them and tell me when the Keeper arrives. I think I shall perform some change of my own. Oh, the chaos! My lord will be proud."

Shadowmere bowed and departed, melting into the darkness of the Void.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__I had unholy amounts of fun writing this. I can just imagine the jealousy, rivalry, and pettiness of a bunch of bored deities. Much like the Greek pantheon. They're probably betting on the Dragonborn. _

_Anyway, just a short update because this is really a complete chapter right here. _

_My thanks to Biff McLaughlin, Zevgirl, Heiwako for their wonderful support on Google+. Thank you: EllaBea, cromar21, Procrastination Possum, steffiii07 and TheOtherLachance for your reviews! Thanks also to those who favorite and follow both me and the story!_


	20. Chapter 20

_Sanctuary_

Nessa awoke feeling rested. She'd had such unsettled dreams and then, finally, she'd settled into a deep, dreamless sleep. Waking up had been like swimming to the surface of a lake after being submerged very deeply. She had forgotten everything if only for a few hours. Now, wiping the grit out of her eyes, it began to come back to her. There was no use trying to avoid what the day would bring her. It would seek her out no matter if she stayed in bed or met it head on. She got out of bed and wrapped a robe around herself, heading to the steamy grotto to wash herself.

After washing, she ate breakfast and then ventured into the common room. Babette was there and gave her a sullen look. Nessa flinched remembering how she'd thrown Babette out of her room the night before.

"I'm sorry I was so sharp with you yesterday. I was just tired," she said to the little vampire.

Babette shrugged. "Apology accepted, now why don't you collect some alchemy ingredients for me and we can craft some really nasty poison? I'd go but the sunlight isn't good for me."

It was the perfect excuse to get out of the Sanctuary and she could have kissed Babette for giving it to her. "Yes! I will go. My supplies are getting low too. Maybe I'll even check the shops in Falkreath." She went back to her room, collected her large gathering basket, changing into trousers and a shirt. She practically ran up the stairs, out of the cave, and into the fresh air outside.

For once the sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. She spent several hours scouring the countryside looking for mountain flowers, lavender, and thistle. The muddy banks of the river yielded a few rare nirnroot. When she finally returned to Sanctuary, she had to take another bath to wash off the mud.

Babette greeted her happily when she brought the loaded basket into the alchemy room and they started to work on creating potions. Babette preferred to make poisons, but Nessa like creating healing potions and other restoratives. They worked together happily, chatting and teasing one another until it was supper time, and then they carefully cleaned their hands and ate dinner together.

Nessa walked through the common room with Babette, back to the alchemy room, when she felt a large, familiar hand clasp her shoulder.

"Come with me, bit," Arnbjorn said, speaking quietly. There'd been far too much gossip already; he didn't need to broadcast the latest development to the entire guild.

Nessa whirled, her eyes large with alarm. "Is it… all right?"

Arnbjorn said nothing but turned and began to walk up the long hallway to Astrid's, and once his, room.

"Arnbjorn?" she asked, hoping for some indication.

He neither stopped nor spoke, he just continued up the hallway.

His silence made her more jumpy. _Why won't he say anything? _

Finally they stopped before Astrid's room and Arnbjorn stood aside. "Go in."

"You're not coming?" she asked, icy terror forming in her veins. _What if Astrid means to kill me? Would Arnbjorn stand by the door and make sure she didn't escape?_ A dozen scenarios played through her mind, none of them pleasant. She wondered if, after their weeks together, Arnbjorn would lead her like a lamb to the slaughter.

"Go on." He opened the door and gave her a little push, then closed the door behind her.

Astrid was there, of course, sitting at her desk reading something. She put her pen down and looked at Nessa, who was still hanging back by the doorway, looking slightly terrified. "Oh, there you are, my dear," she said in a warm, friendly manner.

Nessa's throat constricted and words abandoned her. Astrid was so beautiful. Those weeks they'd spent together came back in a flood of memories. "Hi… Astrid," Nessa said, her voice sounding very small to herself. "You wanted to see me?"

The guild leader got up slowly from her desk and crossed the room. "Please, sit." She indicated a chair sitting in the center of the room.

Nessa hadn't ever seen that chair placed like that. It was well away from the wall, almost in the center of the room. It was a very strange place to put a chair. She stared at the chair a moment then sat obediently.

"Arnbjorn says you did well with your contracts but that you shouldn't be expected to use seduction. Did it trouble you?" Astrid sat on a chair across from her.

Studying her body language Nessa realized that Astrid wasn't being hostile. Her voice was warm and friendly. She seemed relaxed and there was even a small smile on her face.

"I… It was difficult. I thought the man might recognize me."

"Well, perhaps Arnbjorn is right. It isn't for everyone. It does seem that you and Arnbjorn got to know another quite well on this trip." She smiled and stood, then began to pace. "Quite well." She crossed behind Nessa's chair and continued to pace.

Nessa wanted to turn in her chair and follow her with her eyes, but she was afraid to. "Yes, ma'am," she said. She could feel a blush burning its way up her throat to her cheeks.

Astrid walked around to the front of the chair and looked closely at Nessa's face. "Oh, that's so sweet. I haven't seen you blush like that since before you left. I always knew when you blushed like that I was going to hear some sweet sighs a short time later. Now here you are, blushing again, only this time I think those blushes are for my husband."

"No. I mean… " Nessa trailed off, realizing it was pointless to deny it. After all, hadn't it been for this very reason that they'd slept together? "They are for you still, Astrid," she whispered.

She'd caught the older woman by surprise. She'd expected denials and deception, not this. Astrid walked behind the chair and paused, closing her eyes and trying to make sense of her feelings. Her anger surged. She hated feeling this vulnerable and confused. "You fucked my husband," she said, stating it flat out, her voice losing its warmth.

"Yes," Ness said softly. "We thought…"

"He told me," she said, cutting her off. "It was his genius plan to get me back." She laughed and put her hand on Nessa's neck where it met her shoulder. She swept her fingers across the base of the girl's neck, reacquainting herself with how soft her skin was. "He's mine." Her fingers softly wrapped around her neck, as if she were going to throttle her.

The menace implied in the positioning of her fingers wasn't lost on Nessa. "I know. He said so from the beginning."

There was another reason for Astrid's hands to be situated around her neck, it was useful to keep track of signs that the girl was lying. Her senses were a vampire's; she could feel when the heart sped or skin temperature changed. So far, she was telling the truth.

"Do you love him?" she asked Nessa. There was a telltale increase in her heart rate and her skin grew warmer. She didn't need to hear the answer.

"I… I don't know," Nessa said. Her head was spinning. Having Astrid this close to her, touching her again… Everything came back: memories of those days they'd spent together, her touch, her kisses. The despair she had felt at Astrid's rejection crashed down on her again. "I just knew that I would have done anything to get you back, Astrid. What Arnbjorn suggested seemed like the only way."

Astrid felt the girl's throat move as she swallowed nervously. She removed her hand from her neck, suddenly unsure if she wanted to know the truth. "Do you still love me, Nessa?"

Nessa paused. So much had changed in the last six weeks, but she had forgotten nothing. There was still a residual enthrallment that made her desire even these caresses imbued with menace. _I don't know, _was perhaps a truer answer, but could such longings as Nessa felt once again be anything but love? Yet, if she looked deeper within for an answer, would her answer be rouged by the feelings she also had for Arnbjorn? It was a depth of analysis that threatened to paralyze her vocal cords and Astrid wanted an answer.

"I do," she said. It struck her that those were the same words that Astrid and Arnbjorn had probably uttered to seal their vows to one another. As she spoke the words she felt as if she were taking a vow as well.

For Astrid, being this close to Nessa again was sweet torment. The girl's blood still called her, though the song was fainter now, easier to resist. She walked behind her again, sensing how badly Nessa wanted to turn and watch her but didn't. She bent down next to Nessa's ear. "He's mine. Never forget that," she hissed, quietly. Then her hand tilted the younger woman's head back. "And so are you."

Nessa's breath caught in her chest. Something softened in Astrid's eyes and her lips descended onto her own. She shut her eyes and let it all wash over her.

Astrid tugged on her chin, getting her to rise out of the chair as they continued to kiss. She knocked the chair over carelessly and then she heard the door open.

Arnbjorn had been waiting. He knew the moment would come to either rescue Nessa or, as he had hoped, to find her like this, in his wife's arms. He'd been telling himself it didn't matter. Astrid could reject Nessa and he would be fine with that, just so long as he got his wife back, but he felt a distinct wave of relief when he opened the door and saw them kissing. He was sensitive to how tenuous this was. Astrid had to feel in charge and the center of this, otherwise it would fly apart, most likely explosively. Nessa, he knew, was smart enough to realize that. He quietly shut the door and stood behind his wife, wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing her neck. One hand, just one, reached for Nessa's back to draw the three of them closer together.

His wife's hands began unfastening the row of buttons on Nessa's dress and so he started to work on Astrid's armor, unbuckling the myriad small buckles. He peeled off her cuirass just as Nessa's dress dropped to her hips. _Clever girl,_ he thought when he saw she was wearing those filmy underclothes she'd purchased in Solitude. The silken underthings weren't lost on Astrid either. He heard her low hum of approval as she slid her hands over Nessa's breasts.

She had changed, and Astrid appreciated it. Whatever had happened over the course of the last six weeks, Nessa had lost a lot of that little girl innocence. Certainly there was still that wide-eyed, sweet look on her face, but her hands and lips were more confident, and the way she cried out her need when Astrid pinched her nipples through the diaphanous chemise, said she had matured. Still, she recalled her as she had been, so shy that a ribald joke would send her fleeing to her room. It came to her suddenly how Nessa had flushed when she first met Arnbjorn; it was obvious she'd been attracted to him then. She remembered thinking she might arrange for this very thing someday and now, here it was, presented to her, arranged for her, and it wasn't even her birthday.

Nessa's clothes dropped to the floor first, then Astrid's. Arnbjorn removed his own as he watched his wife push the girl onto the bed. She looked like a starving woman, feasting as she explored the Nessa's body once again. The girl's soft cries were getting louder. He joined the two women on the bed unsure whether he should interrupt and precisely how. His wife beckoned him to her and he let her guide him into the waiting girl.

Finding himself now the center of both their attentions, he wasn't sure how to act. He kissed and fondled his wife while he thrust into Nessa. Always he feared to cross some line that might offend Astrid. He was afraid to kiss the girl—_too affectionate._

Astrid's nails scored his sides as she urged him to take the girl in the same bestial way he'd always fucked her. _Let her experience the real Arnbjorn. _Her sharp bites and whispered instructions made his eyes glow and some of his wild nature began to drive him.

For a moment Nessa's eyes flew open and she gasped under the onslaught of his ferocious thrusts and his nails scratching her hips where he held her. It bordered on painful, but in a way that contributed to the building ecstasy. Astrid watched them, a little smile on her face. Then she fell forward and kissed Nessa.

"You're so close aren't you, sweetling?" Astrid whispered to her. "Not yet, though." She prompted Arnbjorn to stop and they shifted positions. Now Astrid was astride her husband and Nessa's face was where they were joined together, trying to reach one moving target or another with her tongue. Then there was another rearrangement and they were stacked one upon the other, with Arnbjorn on the bottom, Nessa on her back in the middle, and Astrid on top. It wasn't good, so the deck was reshuffled again and they lay together on their sides.

This time it all seemed to work smoothly. Nessa wasn't exactly sure where her leg ended and Astrid's started, but she was building to a tremendous release and someone's lips found hers. It was Arnbjorn. His kiss was as brutal as his thrusts. Her lips felt bruised and swollen. She'd never seen this sort of ferocity from him, he'd always been careful with her, as though she might break. Astrid coaxed her closer and closer to the edge with her fingers.

When Arnbjorn began to roar with his release, she sank her fangs into Nessa's neck and that caused the girl to peak. She shuddered uncontrollably in her arms as she drank from her. Arnbjorn was lost in his own world and she, Astrid, tasted again the sweet elixir she'd missed for so long now. In an entirely different way, it was just as exhilarating as an orgasm.

When Arnbjorn recovered and his eyes began to focus, he saw his wife drinking from the girl. Nessa seemed to still be locked into a release that wouldn't end. He gently pulled his wife away from her. "That's enough, Astrid," he said quietly.

This time she didn't hiss at him. She looked up at him, her pupils dilated, and a drop of blood on her lip. She licked it off and kissed him tenderly. "I love you, Arnbjorn," she said quietly. The enormity of everything he'd done to win her back finally hit her. He'd gone against his very nature and had seduced this girl intending to share everything with her if that was what it would take to please her. Perhaps he'd even fallen in love a little, but she was certain that she still came first. _Loyal as a hound_, she thought. _And Nessa?_ She ran her hand gently down the length of the girl's body as she lay on the bed panting, still trying to recover herself. Nessa loved them both, she was certain of that.

Limbs still trembling, Nessa felt boneless and relaxed. It had been awkward at first, but it worked out. Astrid looked lovingly at Arnbjorn and the two of them shared a private moment, and that made Nessa feel like she was intruding. "I should go," she said, and started to rise, but Astrid put out and arm and prevented her.

"No. Stay."

Astrid gave her a sweet, long kiss, and she felt Arnbjorn's mustache brushing against her shoulder as he kissed her lightly. The three of them fit into the big bed, but it was a tight fit. They chatted quietly for a while, talking about the contract in Solitude, the civil war and the future of the guild. Nessa was surprised that they asked her opinion. She cared little about the civil war, but her encounter with the Imperials in Helgen had left her with a dark opinion of them.

"True, Nessa, but if the Stormcloaks had sprung the ambush do you think anything different would've happened?" Astrid asked her when she learned about Helgen.

That set her to thinking. "Probably not." Ulfric, despite his kind, sad eyes, probably would have chopped her head off just as readily as General Tullius. "It's all in the past now. It doesn't matter." As she said it, she realized she meant it. Her life now was nothing like it had been. Back then she'd been just a homeless waif trying to find a way to survive. Now she was a member of a family. She turned on her side and draped an arm over Astrid's waist and Arnbjorn's big hand covered hers. She fell asleep and slept peacefully again, as if she were a child napping in the arms of a loving mother.

~o~o~o~

It was still a busy time for the Dark Brotherhood. Assassins were sent on contracts, but Astrid didn't assign Arnbjorn or Nessa any more kills. Call it selfishness, but this time with the pair of them was blissful. Yes, it was awkward at first, but that soon faded, and now, when everyone else was out of the Sanctuary, the entire place became their playground. Babette would be furious if she learned what they'd done on the alchemy table. Nazir would certainly be disgusted if he'd seen Nessa naked on the table, draped in grapes, and a pot of honey strategically placed between her legs. And best not to even mention some of the places that Festus's extra magical staff had been.

"Get your practice blades, bit," Arnbjorn had ordered her one morning. "Your blade work is lacking."

Nessa sighed deeply. She was tired and a little anemic from Astrid's feedings. "Must we? I'm not feeling so great."

"Not feeling great?" Arnbjorn said quietly, dangerously. "Yes. That excuse will work well on bandits or a target who fights back." He planted his feet and glared at her, mocking her words. "Oh, pardon me, my dear assassin. I'm sorry you're not feeling well. I'll just sit quietly while you kill me." He growled at her. "Get your blades!"

"All right!" she replied a little sharply. "I'll get them." She stomped off to her room to get her practice swords.

When she returned Arnbjorn had his own pair of practice swords. He preferred to use a great axe, but he was a more than competent swordsman as well. He barely waited until she was in the room before pressing an attack.

He went easier on her than he should have, he knew. She was looking very pale lately. Astrid was taking too much from her and the girl refused to eat the raw deer liver he kept trying to give her. It was the best cure for blood loss. Well, the coddling would end now. She would damn well start eating liver and he would have to get Astrid to stop drinking from her for a while. Neither woman would willingly stop; they both enjoyed it too much.

It didn't take much before Nessa was breathing heavily and sweating. He pressed her relentlessly and she could only barely counter his attacks while, time after time, he touched her with a blunted sword. She continued to give ground until there was no more ground to give and her back was against the wall. He finally stopped when his sword was pressed against her throat.

"You're a disgrace to the black hand, bit," he said shaking his head.

She looked apologetic. "I will practice more." She bit her lip and peered up at him, flirting. "I promise."

"That's good, but there's something else you need to do." He kept the tip of his blunted sword on her throat, but smiled a little at her flirtation.

"Oh?" She titled her head and raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "You've bested me. I suppose I am at your mercy, woof."

"True." He leaned in closer and turned her head to the side with the flat of his blade, and kissed her ear.

She shivered as he worked down her neck with his kisses. "What would you have of me?" she asked, believing she would enjoy the answer to the question.

"Eat your liver," he said. Backing away from her, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the dining hall.

Her feet dragged as she tried to escape from his grasp. "Gods no!" She shivered at the thought of eating raw deer liver.

He gave up trying to tug her and picked her up, tucking her under an arm.

"Ahhhh!" she yelled. "Put me down!"

He ignored her and carried her into the dining hall. "Stay," he ordered her gruffly and set her down in a chair. He left to fetch the liver and when he returned she was sitting at the table, her arms folded over her chest and a scowl on her face. It was almost enough to make him laugh. She looked like an angry toddler. He put the plate down in front of her and stared at her.

"No," she said, stubbornly refusing.

He sighed heavily, sat down next to her, and sliced the liver into bite-sized pieces, spearing it with a knife. "Come on. You need this. You've lost too much blood." He brought the liver up to her mouth but she wouldn't open it. "Nessa." His voice was clearly a warning.

Her will crumpled and she opened her mouth while squeezing her eyes shut with a look of total disgust on her face.

"Good girl." He slipped the piece of raw liver into her mouth.

She barely chewed and struggled to swallow it. Afterward she had to admit it wasn't as bad as she thought it would. It tasted like metal and blood. Arnbjorn offered her another piece and this one went down a little easier.

When she had finished the fist-sized piece of liver he smiled at her. "See! That's not so bad is it?"

She shrugged, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"The best part," he said, leaning close to her, "is that now you taste like liver." He kissed her, his tongue seeking out hers, and he savored the musky, coppery flavor of deer blood.

"Hmmm… It seems I've missed the first course," his wife's lovely voice came from the doorway to the dining hall. "But I hope I'm in time for dessert."

Arnbjorn broke off the kiss and turned to greet his wife. "You're just in time, my love, although you need to give up drinking for a while. Nessa is looking pale."

Astrid chuckled and joined them. "I'll do my best, husband, but you know how I can get."

"Drink from me, my love," he invited her.

There was a flurry of kisses and caresses. Nessa's shirt fluttered to the floor, then Arnbjorn's. It seemed the dining room table was going to be misappropriated once again, when the door to the Sanctuary announced a visitor. There was a hurried flurry of dressing, and smoothing of hair.

"Hellooooo… is anyone home?"

Astrid turned to Arnbjorn and Nessa and gave them a puzzled look, her eyebrow arching significantly as the strange voice floated down the long stairway to us.

"Mother and I are here, at long last. Here to meet our brothers and sisters. Aren't we Mother? Hee, hee, hee!"

The voice was… unique. It sounded to Nessa like a cheese grater against a slate tablet or… no, against sandpaper. Loud, piercing, it carried almost every quality that could make a voice unpleasant.

"Dear father Sithis," Astrid murmured. "Do you suppose that could be the Keeper? I had a letter from him a few weeks back saying he had been delayed. I just hope he has an indoor voice."

Arnbjorn picked up his axe and growled. "If he doesn't, I'll cut it out of him."

"Hellooooo! Hallooooo! We've come, at last!"

"Well, let's either welcome the Keeper or rid ourselves of this annoyance," Astrid began to walk out of the common room up to the entryway of the Sanctuary. Arnbjorn and Nessa trailed behind.

At the top of the stairway they found an Imperial dressed in motley. Nessa had never seen anyone dressed in such outrageous clothes. The hat in particular was odd with the strange points curling away from the crown.

"Oh ho! Cicero's new family. Well met, my sisters and brother!" Cicero said, with a voice that was decidedly not an indoor voice.

Astrid's eyebrow arched tellingly as she examined the jester. "Ah, the Keeper," she said smoothly. She extended a hand which Cicero grasped and pumped up and down vigorously. "I was worried something might have happened to you."

"Oh yes, Mother and I had our adventures. Bad weather, broken wheels, bandits…." The jester sighed theatrically. "There were all manner of bad, unhelpful people Cicero had to kill. But… here we are!"

Nessa extended her hand tentatively. "Welcome, Keeper. I am Nessa," she said softly. She didn't know what to think of the strange, rather abrasive newcomer, but she was fascinated with his title. Did he really _keep_ the Night Mother? Perhaps he would have interesting stories to tell about her. Astrid had never been all that interested in talking about the origins of the Dark Brotherhood. To her, Sithis and the Night Mother were just used to terrify children. Nessa, however, wasn't sure such tales could be dismissed out of hand.

"Why, you must be my little sister," he said looking up at her. She towered over him by a few inches, but he was at least fifteen years her senior. "I always said there needed to be more apple-cheeked cherubs in our order and it seems…," he cackled happily, "…it seems we found one, Mother!"

Nessa looked askance at Astrid who shrugged with confusion. The Keeper seemed—well, to put it mildly—a bit moon-touched. Still, other than his unpleasantly loud voice, and odd manner of dressing, he seemed harmless.

"And who is my brother with the large… axe? I hope I'm not keeping you from your firewood. Mother does like a good fire." Cicero held out his hand to Arnbjorn.

Arnbjorn narrowed his eyes and growled. He took the proffered hand and Cicero gave a high-pitched squeak.

"Oh! My new brother has quite the grip!"

Astrid jabbed Arnbjorn with her elbow. "Be nice," she said quietly. "Cicero, this is Arnbjorn, my husband."

"Ooooh! Husband of the lovely leader, not the apple-cheeked cherub." He turned to Nessa. "Does your husband have such a fierce grip too?"

"I'm not married," Nessa replied. She could feel her cheeks glowing.

"Ooooh, precious! Preeeecious! Cicero made the cherub blush!" He danced another little jig until Arnbjorn advanced on him menacingly.

"Don't you need to attend to a corpse or something?" he said. His tone conveyed as much menace as the axe he still clenched in his hand.

"Oh goodness, yes. Yesssss! Poor Mother is alone in the cart, waiting to end this dreadful journey." He looked over Arnbjorn. "You could put some of that brawn to good work! Mother needs to be unloaded from the cart and put into her new shrine." He looked at Astrid and smiled. "You've set up Mother's shrine, I trust?"

Astrid paused a moment. "Well, uh, yes. We've set aside some rooms for both you and the Night Mother. I confess, I had no idea what you needed for your… needs, so I'll leave it up to you to decide what you want." Truthfully, she'd spent no time, thought, or effort at making room for them other than deciding a pair of rooms in the unused wing of the Sanctuary could be set aside for the Keeper and his… corpse.

Cicero's eyebrow shot up in mimicry of hers. "Very well! Cicero will set up the shrine. Now, let's bring Mother in out of the weather."

Astrid declined to go outside. It was full daylight and, like all vampires, the sun made her ill, but Nessa and Arnbjorn both helped Cicero unload the large wooden crate from the back of a cart. It weighed a lot, but Cicero had a spell that helped lighten the load so they were able to carry it downstairs and get it into the room that Astrid had set aside.

Cicero had the room adjoining the Night Mother's. Nessa noticed that neither room looked tidy or ready to be used. She thought perhaps Astrid really hadn't given much thought to the Keeper's arrival. _She's been busy, _she thought. Certainly, this had been a very busy time for the guild. Although, to be honest, these past weeks Astrid seemed to have a lot of time to spend with Nessa and Arnbjorn. _She could have assigned me to cleaning up these rooms. _Nessa felt a little guilty. The Keeper was an important person; he shouldn't be given such disorderly rooms. She hung back when Astrid and Arnbjorn had left.

"I'll help you get things organized, if you like," she offered.

Cicero was uncrating the Night Mother's coffin and he stopped to turn around and inspect the girl. She was comely, he had to admit: fair-haired, fair of skin, but far too tall. Her eyes might be a little bluer than some, and there was a splattering of freckles across her nose that he liked. It was just a little hard to believe that a girl like her served the Night Mother. How could such a naïf be entrusted with helping him in his sacred duty? He was, after all, the Keeper. Still… she could be useful.

"Oooh, yes! Yes. These rooms are a little dusty and the floor seems a bit dirty. Do you think you could tidy up a bit?"

"Of course," she said. Housework was nothing foreign to Nessa. The orphans of Riften had had to scrub entire rooms on their hands and knees. She immediately set to work sweeping, dusting and scrubbing. Surprisingly, she even enjoyed it and found herself humming a folk song in time to her work. Cicero joined in, humming along with her, and then he made up nonsense lyrics to sing. That started them both laughing. Cicero might have a voice like sandpaper on slate, and he might be crazier than a hare, but he had a certain quirky charm, Nessa decided.

Astrid said nothing to her as Nessa scurried around with a bucket and rags. "I like this not," she murmured to Arnbjorn, unsure exactly what it was that bothered her more: the Keeper interrupting their idyll, or Nessa acting like a chambermaid to fix up their rooms.

_~o~o~o~o~_

**Notes: **_Thanks to those who reviewed: Biff McLaughlin, Zevgirl, x_Janelle_x, Rayven Feather, Steffiii07, Leonidas Raistlin Knowitall, Procrastination Possum, EllaBea, Blue Dartwing, and Heiwako. I really love the feedback!_

_Finally Cicero arrives! I know at the beginning of the story I mentioned he would be arriving any day and uh… he was delayed. But interestingly enough, I was replaying the game and I noticed how Astrid mentions that the Keeper is supposed to be arriving but he is several months late… so in reality he's right on time!_

_I've been dreading writing Cicero. I find him horribly annoying in game. His voice drives me up a wall. However, my friend Heiwako assures me he will grow on me if I keep him alive and have him as a companion. This latest play-through I'm doing that. I even dressed him up in Nightingale armor and he even looks kind of like Brynjolf if you use invisible helms like I do. Now… if only he spoke like Brynjolf! _


	21. Chapter 21

**Sanctuary**

The assassins trickled in one by one after Cicero arrived. Despite their trying to be discrete, it was soon common knowledge that something had changed. Babette, as usual, pieced it together.

"Why the sudden interest in a cure for sanguinare? Hmmmm?" Babette's face lit up in a broad grin. "Are you hunting vampires? Or perhaps one is hunting you!" She giggled. "Tell you what… we can trade. I'll give you the recipe for a really good cure and you tell me what's going on."

Nessa bit her lip. "I can't, Babette. Please! Just show me the recipe."

Babette reach out and touched Nessa's skin. "Oh goodness, you're feeling a bit clammy and you're most definitely pale. I think you've got it for sure."

"Babette…"

"How long, two days?" she asked.

Nessa shrugged.

"Well, you've got a day to think over my deal. After that, it's too late. You might want to bid farewell to daylight, you won't be able to go outside except after sunset, until you're much stronger anyway."

"Babette! Please." Nessa considered her options. She could complain to Arnbjorn and Astrid about Babette, but she didn't want to stir things up.

"I've got to go feed, Nessa," she smiled sweetly. "I'll just go into Falkreath and find someone sleeping and sneak up on them and take a little. I do that a few times and I'm good for a few days. Not so awful really, and the taste grows on you." She jumped up from her chair and ran down the stairs to the common room, turning once to wave to Nessa.

"Wait!" Nessa called out.

Babette turned to look at the highly embarrassed Nord girl.

"All right. You win. Come to my room and I'll tell you, but you have to promise to keep it to yourself!"

"Cross my heart, hope to die… oops, I can't die. Well cross my heart anyway!" Babette chirped.

It had taken a lot, but she was finally going to hear it all. The freshest, juiciest gossip and right from the source! The Dark Brother was definitely looking up. Business was booming, the Night Mother and her Keeper were here—and he was as mad as a hare—and there was a wonderfully sordid affair going on involving her best friend, Astrid, Astrid's husband, and the Nord girl. The potential for everything to just explode was unlimited. Best part was, she didn't even have to lift a finger. As sure as shit stinks, something was going to go wrong, she could taste a catastrophe brewing.

And, speaking of brewing, she got Nessa busy brewing curatives for sanguinare, the disease that turned people in vampires. It was a shame. She thought Nessa would have made a lovely vampire.

Babette lived up to her word, she told no one else about the interesting arrangement that Astrid and Arnbjorn had with the new girl.

"Where's Arnbjorn and Astrid?" Gabriella had asked at supper one night.

"Where's Nessa?" Babette asked, bringing to light the fact she too was missing.

"The Nord girl seems to have developed a taste for raw deer liver," Cicero observed. "I also found her plucking the feathers out of some arrows. She's mad… mad I say!" He cackled happily as the others eyed him warily.

"Feathers and raw deer liver?" Gabriella mused. "She does look a little pale at times. I assumed she was having trouble with her moon blood. That could explain the liver. It is full of iron and vitamins."

Babette was nearly bursting. Hawk feathers were a main ingredient in the anti-sanguinare potion.

"Feathers…," Festus mused. "Feathers and mudcrab chitan. I saw her pounding those together in a mortar. I was working on an enchantment so I couldn't be bothered, but the smell of mudcrab was unmistakable."

Gabriella went on with her eating then dropped her fork. "Wait! Isn't that the cure for the sanguinare?"

"The cure for vampire bites?" Nazir said, suddenly picking up on the conversation. "She hasn't had any contracts lately, unless Astrid sent her out while we were gone."

Babette wanted to scream, f_igure it out, you idiots! _But she calmly sipped at a glass of water.

"Babette, have you been feeding from your sister?" Vezara asked.

She sighed theatrically and let her forehead thump down on the table. "Oh gods, I work with morons," she said very quietly. "Lis, the spider, is smarter than they are."

"Did you say something, Babette?" Nazir asked.

"I said, 'No.' I don't drink from Nessa. Or anyone here for that matter."

"It's a mystery! A mystery, I say!" Cicero said, cackling manically.

Gabriella shrugged. "She probably met a vampire in the woods when she was gathering alchemy ingredients."

"In the middle of the day?" Babette prompted helpfully.

"Hmmm...," Gabriella said, shrugging. She picked at her food, took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. "The last time she was like this…." She dropped her fork again and it clattered to the platter noisily. "Astrid?" She turned to look at Babette with her fierce red eyes. "Are they… Oh divines! Do you suppose…?"

There was only the slightest dimpling around Babette's mouth. "Why are you looking at me? No one ever tells me anything around here!" She got up from the dinner table and stormed off to her room and slammed the door. Then she sat down on her bed and laughed until her sides ached. "My work here is done," she said and sighed happily.

_~o~o~o~_

The dining room grew quiet after Babette left and realization began to sink in. Gabriella pieced it together. Of course, Astrid and Nessa couldn't be together without supervision and so that must be that Arnbjorn was involved in the affair as well. She chuckled quietly and whispered her conclusions to Festus.

Cicero overheard some of the gossip and became very concerned. Not only had this Sanctuary drifted far from the proper respect of the Night Mother and Lord Sithis, but the leader was preying upon that sweet, apple-cheeked girl; had nearly killed her, according to the gossip he overheard.

"The fifth tenet," he murmured. "Never kill a Dark Brother or a Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis." If, as the gossipers were saying, Astrid had nearly killed her before, unable to control her unnatural vampiric penchants, then only her husband stood in the way of the girl's death. Cicero narrowed his eyes as he considered the situation. Clearly this Sanctuary had fallen away from the old ways.

"Cicero wonders," he said, "why does the girl permit such abuse? She didn't strike me as stupid." He laughed suddenly. "She didn't strike me at all. I would have ducked if she'd tried!"

Vezara hissed with laughter. "When vampires drink their targets can become enthralled, like slaves they are. Our poor Nessa would have willingly gone to her death if I hadn't kept her from leaving her room."

Cicero rubbed his chin and considered. "So, Astrid stole her will?" _Another tenet broken!_

Vezara shrugged. "I suppose that you could say that."

Festus nodded vigorously. "Astrid's been a good leader, but I disagree with abandoning the tenets. Now that the Night Mother and her Keeper are here we should return to the old ways. They've always guided us."

Cicero picked up his fork and knife and pretended they were having a conversation. "He's wise beyond his years, says Forky." Knife jumped up and down excitedly. "Not so! Not so! Have you counted them? I don't know any numbers beyond one-hundred!"

"Bah! That's enough nonsense, clown." Festus got up. "I have some enchanting to do."

"I'm a jester, Uncle Fester!" Cicero called after the old man as he left the dining hall.

Gabriella laughed at his antics but Nazir looked like he had a headache coming on.

Soon the last remaining diners left and Cicero had the dining hall to himself. He picked up his knife and fork and began playing with them again. "Forky thinks Astrid is a bad leader. Two tenets broken! Stealing and killing… sort of." The knife nodded in agreement. "Knifey thinks Forky is right. But there is no Listener so these Dark Brothers do what they're told."

Sounding quite sane for once, Cicero nodded to his cutlery. "You two are both right." His voice dropped in pitch and sounded cool, calculating, and even. "But we can do nothing without a Listener, so we'll let the Pretend Leader continue to pretend to lead." He giggled at the knife. "Stay sharp!"

_~o~o~o~_

"I know you like to give the Night Mother flowers, so I gathered some extra ones while I was out today." Nessa gave a neat bundle of colorful flowers to Cicero. "I didn't know her favorite color, so I guessed. I like the purple mountain flowers and the yellow dragon's tongue. It's so cheerful."

"Mother's favorite color is black, of course," Cicero said as he pottered about her shrine. "But, since there's a dearth of black flowers, she likes the poisonous ones best: deathbells, nightshade and such." He looked over the colorful batch the girl gave him. "These will be fine." He straightened up from his fussing and looked at her. "Thanks."

She smiled and turned to leave.

"Wait," Cicero said.

She turned around and came in further. He moved behind her and shut the door. "What is it?"

"Cicero may seem quiet, inconspicuous as a little mouse even," he said. "People forget I'm around and sometimes they say things… things I'm not supposed to hear."

Nessa had to clamp down on a laugh. Cicero was anything but quiet. "What did you hear?"

"That this Sanctuary doesn't hold with the five tenets of the Dark Brotherhood. Some even say that your leader, Astrid, sneers at them."

"Well, I wouldn't say she sneers at them, but it is true they're not followed here. I don't think that's any great secret," Nessa said. Cicero was definitely acting differently. The jester persona was dropping away a little and he began to speak more normally.

"I've heard that you're her slave. She's stolen your will and she nearly killed you." His voice dropped in volume and tone. "Is this true?"

Nessa was so startled by the accusation she backed up a couple of steps closer to the door. Cicero followed her, closing the distance between them.

"Who said such a thing?" she demanded. "I… it was an accident." She folded her arms and glared at him. "Everything is fine between Astrid and I. We're very… close."

"Close… yes, very close, I've heard. Perhaps _too _close, cherub. The Night Mother does not approve."

Somehow Cicero seemed madder when he dropped the jester persona. She blinked twice and furrowed her brow. "I thought you said the Night Mother doesn't talk to you. How would you know?"

He narrowed his eyes but then he broke into a low chuckle. "Oh… fine, cherub. Just take it from me, you're playing with fire. These things never end well." Cicero liked the cherub, and he didn't want to see her hurt, but he didn't trust Astrid or her grouchy husband.

"I should probably go. I have… things." She backed up a little closer to the door.

"Cicero scared the cherub?" He frowned theatrically and began to slip back into his jester persona. He reached out and grabbed her hand giving it quick squeeze. She flinched away for a moment but then smiled before turning to leave. He felt he was going to lose her. "Wait!"

She turned around wondering what he wanted now.

"Mother likes candles a lot. Black ones are good, but red ones aren't bad."

Nessa nodded and sent him a fleeting smile. "I can get some from the village."

"Can Cicero go with you?" he asked.

She wondered how the villagers would react to him, but she nodded. "All right. Let's go."

They walked together out of his room. Cicero looped his arm through Nessa's and pretended to be drunk. Nessa had to steady him to keep him from crashing into things and that got her laughing. She pulled him up the hallway and out the door where he promptly sobered up and smiled at her. "Hi ho! To Falkreath we go," he sang.

Behind them, back in the Sanctuary, Astrid and Arnbjorn had watched the pair struggling up the hallway, giggling together. Arnbjorn's lip was slightly raised and Astrid looked like she'd just smelled something awful.

"The jester is really annoying me," she said. "I swear, if he babbles on about that moldering corpse again, I'm not responsible for what I am liable to say."

"Nessa seems to like him," Arnbjorn said. "I can't imagine why."

"Perhaps you should speak to her," she suggested.

"Me? Why do you think I should be the one?" Arnbjorn crossed his arms. Nessa wasn't enthralled any longer, at least not like she had been when Astrid had nearly killed her, but his wife still held a great deal of sway over her. "I'm the guild leader. I don't want her to think it's an order. Just suggest that she might want to keep her distance. In fact, why don't you spend the night with her tonight?"

Arnbjorn looked surprised. They'd been inviting her to their room, to sneak in late at night, unseen by the others. Neither of them had been alone with her since her return. "Are you kicking me out again?"

Astrid barked a short laugh. "No. I just thought I'd go feed tonight. Nessa needs more time to recover, and you never let me take much from her anyway. But there's no reason you can't spend some time together without me. I trust she won't take you from me."

He held her eyes a long moment then pulled her to him and kissed her neck gently. "You'll never lose me, my love. 'Til death do us part."

It was rare that Arnbjorn expressed such a tender sentiment and it touched her. "You're mine, wolf." She kissed him gently. "But go. Follow the clown and Nessa. Make sure that nothing happens."

"What could happen?"

Astrid shrugged. "He's crazy. Anything could happen. I'm just… I'm worried about her."

"You're such a mother hen."

She laughed at him and punched him in the arm. "Go on. Be discrete."

"Of course."

He waited a few minutes but followed the pair up the hallway and out of the Sanctuary. He changed into a wolf in the forest and picked up their scent following it into town. They disappeared into a shop and emerged later carrying bundles. Arnbjorn noticed they were whispering and laughing and, as he followed them, Nessa produced an additional bundle that she'd hidden under her tunic. She'd stolen something from the shop.

"Bad cherub!" Cicero's piercing voice floated up to him. "You're a very bad influence on good, kind… _honest…_ Cicero."

Nessa laughed merrily, but Arnbjorn couldn't hear her response but he could guess she was teasing Cicero about being a kindly and honorable assassin.

All told, there seemed nothing out-of-order in the friendship developing between these two. Certainly nothing for Astrid to worry over or even be jealous of. Still… it did bother Arnbjorn and he didn't know why. Just seeing how the clown could make her laugh irritated him. He skulked back to the Sanctuary and go there ahead of them. He reassured Astrid that Nessa was fine.

_~o~o~o~_

Nessa went to bed hoping she'd hear that scratch on her door that signaled Astrid and Arnbjorn wanted her company. It came that night about the time everyone else had retired. She slipped out of bed and tied a robe around herself and opened her door. Arnbjorn was waiting there, but this time he didn't move to lead the way back to his bedroom with Astrid.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

Watching his face closely for a clue as to why the change in what was practically a nightly ritual, she stepped aside and let him in. "Of course." She watched him move over to the fireplace and warm his hands, still confused by why he was here. He'd shown her no affection outside of Astrid's presence since they'd returned. She rather missed their time alone together, but she knew why he did it. Astrid was his wife and she was not. Whatever Arnbjorn might, or might not, feel for her would never change his priorities.

"Is something wrong?" she finally asked when Arnbjorn had said nothing more.

"No." He felt like he should say more. "Astrid is out tonight." _Should I mention she sent me?_ He decided against it.

Nessa walked over to him and tentatively put her hands against his shoulders. "You're welcome to stay here, if you wish." _I've missed you._

He said nothing but turned around and took Nessa into his arms and kissed her, softly. His fierce, animalistic presence seemed far away this night. He broke off the kiss and murmured in her ear. "Is this all right?"

The question confused her. "It's fine. You can stay."

"No, I mean, what we're doing, the three of us. Is it all right with you?" He didn't intend to even ask the question and now he didn't know how to ask it. At some level he knew they were using the girl. This wasn't healthy for her, half-enthralled with his wife and, he thought, half in love with him. She was still just a girl, although growing up quickly. A girl should fall in love with someone that can fully return it. For the first time he realized that this life, killing for money, giving lip service to some dark god, was a terrible existence for a girl like her. She deserved better than this, better than them. "Go. Leave this place. Find someone that can return your love properly, bit."

Nessa inhaled, wounded by the suggestion. "Do you want me to leave?" She turned away from him and stared into the fire, afraid of his answer. _They've tired of me._

Arnbjorn recognized the trap but didn't know how to avoid it. He wanted something better for her but he knew if he drove her off Astrid would be furious. "I'm thinking of you, bit. I want you to be happy." He ran his hand down the length of her hair, across the crimps and creases left from wearing it in tight braids.

"Happy?" she scoffed. "You're a fine one to talk about happiness. You told me it was a terrible thing to examine your feelings. Really! You're such a fraud."

"I _don't_ think about them, not mine, and anyone else's either, except Astrid's, and… yours." This conversation was getting more uncomfortable by the moment. "And no, I don't want you to leave, but you should consider it."

Nessa turned to look at him, her confusion was obvious. She opened her mouth to say something but Arnbjorn seized her. "Enough talk." He grasped her chin and pulled her to his mouth and kissed her.

_Damn him!_ He always kept her off-balance. Telling her she should leave, then doing… _this_. She should push him away and tell him to leave, but this reminded her so much of that happy time they'd spent in Solitude. Well… happy if you didn't count all the terrible things that happened there. She wove her fingers into his long, pale hair and pulled him into her. Their mouths coming together harder in a deep kiss.

Hesitations were forgotten as they collapsed onto her bed and clothes were abandoned on the floor. It plunged them both into the past when they were learning each other's bodies, and they took up where they'd left off. Arnbjorn was free to show his affection for her without worrying about Astrid, and she was free to return it. Neither one of them thought of her, though they would feel guilty about it later.

Afterward, they drowsed in each other's arms, the fire fading into glowing embers in the hearth. He considered breaking the spell the evening had wrought to discuss Cicero with her, but these moments were rare now. Tomorrow would be soon enough. He kissed her softly on her eyelid as it closed. She was awake enough to smile, but not for long.

_~o~o~o~_

"You should stay away from the jester, bit," he finally said. It was early the next morning and he'd dressed, ready to leave her. There wasn't much more time before the others would start to stir and he needed to be out of her room before then.

"Wait. What?" She grabbed his arm and pulled him back from the door. "Why? He's a little moon-touched, or rather a lot, but other than that, he's all right."

"He's up to something, bit. Astrid is certain of it, and I trust her. It's just best you stay away."

Anger flashed through her at first. Cicero didn't deserve to be treated like that, she thought, but then she remembered a few of the things Cicero had said. It was pretty clear he thought Astrid was heretical and, well, from what little she knew of the Dark Brotherhood, they had strayed rather far away from tradition.

Arnbjorn saw an angry response flash across her face and he expected a retort, but it didn't come. Instead he saw the fire go out of her eyes and she slowly nodded.

"All right," she agreed. "He can get his own damn candles in the future."

"Good girl," he said. He kissed her one last time and left, pulling the door closed behind him.

Nessa sat on her bed and pondered everything Arnbjorn had said. _Leave?_ It almost sounded like a warning, but then he said he didn't want her to and judging by what transpired the night before, he'd really didn't want her to leave. And what had Cicero said? _These things never end well. _

She couldn't leave. Her feelings for Astrid and Arnbjorn kept her here. The assassins were friends, strange as they were. No, they were more than that, they were family. What else would she do if not this? Maybe she could go back to Whiterun. The Jarl had been friendly, but she was alone there. No, she couldn't go back.

She got dressed and made her way to the dining hall. Astrid was there and waved her over.

"I have an assignment for you, dear," the guild leader murmured into her ear.

It took a moment for Nessa to parse the sentence, having Astrid's breath buffet her ear derailed her for a moment. "Oh? A contract?"

Astrid shook her head and smiled at the girl. "An easy one, but well paying. You'll be done in a week, tops. You can even take Shadowmere."

"Alone?" she asked.

Astrid nodded. "Oh yes, it is easy. You'll be fine." She gave Nessa's hand a reassuring pat. "Or did you think you could steal away my husband for another tryst?"

Nessa looked at her, worried, but Astrid was smiling. "I wouldn't!"

"I'm teasing, sweetling. Perhaps someday you and I can do a contract together, hmmm? But this time it you'll fly solo. All right?"

Nodding, Nessa squeezed Astrid's hand back. "I won't let you down," she murmured quietly.

"I know." She gave the young assassin a smile and received one back. "I've got to go. You can get the details from Nazir. You might as well leave right away. The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back. Right?"

"True," she agreed. "I'll get going within an hour or two."

Getting up from the table she placed a hand on Nessa's shoulder and said, "Come say goodbye before you go, Nessa."

Nessa ate her breakfast, dreading leaving again, but in some ways looking forward to it. Maybe some distance from the guild leader and her husband would clear her mind. She could think about what Cicero had said and Arnbjorn's advice as well. She sought out Nazir after she ate and he told her she'd be going to Windhelm and gave her all the details of the kill.

"The manner of the death is up to you, Nessa," Nazir said.

Nessa smiled. It was the first time Nazir had ever called her by name. She said her goodbyes, tender ones for Arnbjorn and Astrid, and left the sanctuary that same day. Shadowmere arose out of the inky tarn when she whistled for him and he seemed quite happy to see her. Odd, the last time he had seemed almost indifferent to her.

It took her three days travel to find the mark and the better part of the day to lay in wait for him. He died quickly and cleanly to a well-aimed arrow. Nessa stayed in her hiding place until she was certain no one would see her, and then she emerged and slunk off into the woods where she had left Shadowmere.

_Nothing to it, _she thought. Far easier to kill from afar with an arrow than any of this other nonsense she'd had to do in Solitude. Much easier on the conscience, too, than if you have to view their death too closely. Although, she noted, there was much less soul-searching with each one of these now. Someday she'd be able to do this without the pangs of guilt or wondering if she'd just stolen some child's last bit of family away.

_Someday_.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__I'm finally getting to Hearthfire and Dawnguard. I've adopted two kids and I spoil them rotten. I hope they don't go the way of Jarl Balgruuf's unruly brood. But Mommy just turned into a vampire, hope the kids don't mind._

_My thanks to Rayven Feather, Zevgirl, Biff McLaughlin, Guest (who?), Gangyzgirl, Cromar, Blue Dartwing, TheOtherLachance, Heiwako, Procrastination Possum, and EllaBea for you reviews! I always love hearing from readers. Your opinions help me very much._

_If you're a Skyrim reader you'll really enjoy Heiwako's stories and if you enjoy Mass Effect and Dragon Age (and some Skyrim too), then Zevgirl and Biff also have some great stories._

_Thanks all! Hopefully the next chapter will flow like a tidal wave of molasses—which really did happen once, Google it—inexorably and steadily, coating everything in a sweet, sticky, syrup of yum. (That simile needs work.)_


	22. Chapter 22

**Sanctuary**

The door to the Sanctuary stood before her and whispered its challenge. Nessa shifted from one foot to the other and debated with herself. She missed Astrid and, to be honest, Arnbjorn in particular. His advice for her had haunted her the entire journey and it still did as she stood outside the door. Outside. An outsider. Even though Astrid and Arnbjorn welcomed her to their bed, she knew there were bonds between them that she would never share. Only when Astrid was gone did she feel truly close to Arnbjorn. If she walked through that door, everything would resume where it left off.

But if she didn't answer the door, turned around and walked away, as Arnbjorn had advised... what then? She couldn't go back to the thieves' guild after breaking their rules so flagrantly. Maybe she would just turn around right now and pick a random direction and walk. She had money, weapons, and armor. It would be easy this time. She'd just walk away and keep going until she found another life.

Funny it took her this entire week, and it wasn't until she was standing in front of the place that had been her home for so many months, that she finally made up her mind. She took one last look at the representation of Sithis and turned around to leave.

Somehow, while she'd been debating with herself, Shadowmere had silently slipped behind her and blocked her way. She yelped in surprise as he seemed to glare at her and snorted loudly.

"Shadowmere!" she squeaked. "How'd you do that?" She looked at the horse in amazement. Of course, the horse had some Daedric origin, she knew that. It could disappear into the tarn outside the Sanctuary, why shouldn't it be able to sneak if it wanted to? She laughed at herself for startling at the horse's prank. "All right, boy, move out of the way."

The horse snorted again and shook his head. He stepped closer to her, nudging her toward the door.

"Shadowmere, you don't want me to leave?"

The horse nickered softly and pushed her back another step.

"Well." This was interesting. Nessa considered the horse and stroked his face, enjoying the soft, silky texture of his black fur. She liked Shadowmere. Clearly he knew what she was considering and he was vetoing the idea. "Are you sure, Shadowmere?"

The horse just gave her another soft nudge and now she found herself backed up to the door. At least the horse would miss her if she left, she thought, Veezara would too, and probably Babette, maybe even Cicero. "All right, boy. I'll stay."

Shadowmere backed off a few steps and she turned to the door. "Silence, my brother." The stone door rolled open with a ponderous grinding sound. She looked back over her shoulder at Shadowmere. "Bye, horsey."

The horse snorted one last time as the door rolled shut behind her. She was home.

_~o~o~o~_

Astrid was fuming. Arnbjorn had tried his best to calm her down, but she wasn't in a mood to listen to him. She was convinced that one or more of the assassins was collaborating with Cicero to take over the guild… _her _guild! She'd heard him talking to someone in his room, accusing her of breaking the tenets.

"He's talking to himself, most likely, love." Arnbjorn tried to pacify her, but she wasn't interested.

"I'm sure I heard more than one voice, Arn! And I distinctly heard him say my name, several times in fact. He called me a… a pretender!" She flung her arms out in exasperation. "A pretender? Sithis take the little bastard. What have I been doing all these years: pretending to keep this guild alive and prosperous while all the other Sanctuaries have fallen one by one?"

"Say the word, love. I'll wring his scrawny neck." Arnbjorn hoped it wouldn't come down to that, but he would do it if he must.

At that moment they heard the Sanctuary door grind open and a few moments later Nessa rounded the corner.

"Hi, I'm back. It went well. You were right, it was easy," Nessa told them. Both of them looked grim and rather tense. _What did I do?_ "I'm sorry. I'm interrupting. We can talk later."

"No!" Astrid reached out and pulled her by the arm into their room and shut the door behind her. "Come in, sweetling." She took Nessa's pack from her. "We'll talk now." She kissed her delicately on the temple and led her to a chair. "Sit, Nessa. Arn, get her something to drink, she looks thirsty."

"I'm fine, don't bother," Nessa demurred. "Is something wrong?"

"Tell me about your contract first, dear," Astrid said. "How did your mark die?"

"Easily. An arrow to the heart. No one saw anything," Nessa reported. "The trip was easy too. Shadowmere was—" she cast around trying to think how to explain how he had acted. Anything she said would sound crazy. "He was really nice."

Astrid put aside her agitation and smiled at Nessa. "Very good, Nessa. You've turned into quite the accomplished assassin. We are all very proud of you." She sat next to Nessa and picked up the girl's hand. "There's a little favor you could do for me."

"Of course, Astrid," Nessa said. Astrid's face got that tense look she'd noticed earlier. "Something _is _wrong. What is it?"

"Well, yes." Astrid sighed and squeezed Nessa's hand.

Arnbjorn paced back and forth, saying nothing, his face was inscrutable.

"I overheard Cicero plotting against me with someone in the Brotherhood. I need to know who is involved in this conspiracy. Can you—"

"Leave her out of this, Astrid," Arnbjorn growled. His wife's paranoia was growing. If something was wrong, they could handle between themselves. It wasn't fair to involve Nessa.

Nessa looked between them and saw Astrid beginning to look angry and a stubborn look settle on Arnbjorn's face. "I don't mind," she said quietly, hoping to avert further tension between them.

Astrid smiled at Nessa and squeezed her hand. "Perhaps you should hear what I want you to do first. I want you to slip into the room with the Night Mother, go inside her coffin and wait until Cicero returns. Eavesdrop on whoever he talks to and report back to me."

The notion of slipping into the Night Mother's coffin didn't appeal to Nessa, but if someone was conspiring against Astrid, she could bear it, for her sake. "Is Cicero out now?" she asked.

Astrid nodded. "He is, but he'll be back soon."

"What if he opens the coffin to… _keep_ the Night Mother? He gets her out to oil her sometimes." Now _that_ was gross. Oiling corpses… who does that? Sharing the coffin with a corpse was one thing, but with an oily corpse?

"I think he oiled her yesterday. He only does it once every couple of weeks."

_Great. She'll be extra oily. _Nessa found herself nodding even though Arnbjorn looked angry. Astrid was her guild leader, her lover; she could not deny her. "All right."

Arnbjorn growled softly. This was wrong. It felt like a trap. "I'll be standing by, bit. Shout if there's any trouble."

"Leave your belongings here, sweetling," Astrid said. "I'll have someone take them to your room." She leaned over and cupped her hands around Nessa's head, bringing their mouths together. She kissed her passionately, her sharp incisors scrapped across Nessa's bottom lip. "You are my angel," she said softly. "Now… scamper!"

The kiss drove all the doubts out of Nessa's head. She kissed the top of Astrid's hand, sprang out of her chair, pecked Arnbjorn on the cheek, and ran lightly down the hallway. She turned right and into the rooms occupied by the keeper and the Night Mother. She tried to yank open the coffin, but it was locked.

"Shit!" she hissed quietly. She got out her lock picks and set to work opening it. Fortunately the lock was a simple one and she had it sprung quickly. She opened the doors and got in without really looking at the Night Mother's corpse. It would only make the task worse if she looked at her. She pulled the doors closed around her and waited in the pitch black confines of the sarcophagus.

Only a few minutes later she heard Cicero humming and his quiet footsteps. Then he began to speak softly.

"Are we alone? Yes… yes… alone." He giggled as he spoke. "Sweet solitude. No one will hear us, disturb us. Everything is going according to plan."

Nessa strained, but couldn't hear anyone else. Was this more of Cicero's ravings or was he actually talking to someone?

"The others… I've spoken to them. And they're coming around, I know it. The wizard, Festus Krex… perhaps even the Argonian, and the un-child. The cherub… well, she's blinded by that harlot's spell."

"What about you? Have you… have you spoken to anyone? No… no, of course not. I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing and saying!" His voice grew louder, angrier. "And what do you do? Nothing!" he shouted. "No!" He paused a moment. "Not… not that I'm angry."

He sounded angry to Nessa, but his voice was winding down.

"No, never! Cicero understands." He chuckled quietly, sadly. "Cicero always understands, and obeys."

Now there was a hint of bitterness to his voice. He sounded like a rejected suitor.

"You will talk when you're ready, won't you? Won't you… sweet Night Mother?"

Then it became clear to Nessa that Cicero wasn't talking to someone, more like a something. He was talking to the corpse she was sharing quarters with. She was flooded with relief that Cicero wasn't plotting anything. He was most likely just trying to get people to accept the five tenets. She could go back to Astrid and soothe things over. She would…

Unexpectedly, lassitude overtook Nessa's limbs. She slumped against the corpse, unable to hold herself away from it. Suddenly she found herself in a landscape painted in shades of gray and black, with pinpoints of light here, and there, like fireflies. She staggered and caught herself against a tree trunk before she fell.

"What… what is this place?" she asked, looking at the dim beauty around her.

"This is my corner of the Void, my daughter," a feminine voice floated to her ears. "Welcome."

Nessa turned around and saw a beautiful woman sitting on a moss covered stone bench. A silken robe was tied around her shapely body. "Are you…" she stuttered, thinking that she was caught desecrating the Night Mother's coffin and now… she was in the Void. This must be her punishment.

"Yes, child, I am the Night Mother."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone into your coffin."

"It doesn't matter, child. You're warm next to my ancient bones. But I have brought you here to speak with you. Poor, dear Cicero will never hear me, for he is not the Listener." She smiled and patted the stone bench beside her. "Sit."

Nessa hesitated then sat down next to the woman. She could feel the chill of the stone bench through her trousers. _Can the dead feel cold?_

"Don't get me wrong, child, he is a dear to me, but his task is to keep my corpse. It is someone else's task to be the Listener."

"But who?" Nessa asked. "There hasn't been a Listener for quite some time I think. Most of the Sanctuaries are gone now, except ours."

"The Listener is the one who hears me, daughter."

Realization dawned slowly on Nessa. The Mother was speaking to her, therefore... She stood up abruptly, a wave of panic cresting in her chest. "Oh…no," she shook her head and backed away. "It can't be me! You've made a mistake. You must speak to Astrid. Please!"

The Night Mother smiled indulgently, but there was a tinge of irony in her expression. "The Night Mother doesn't make mistakes, my dear. You are young and inexperienced, but that will change soon." She rose and gestured expansively. "I should send you back before Cicero discovers you. He isn't likely to be happy with you."

"Shouldn't you make Cicero the Listener? He'd be a great Listener," Nessa said, still trying to bargain her way out of the job.

Arching an eyebrow at the girl, she was beginning to get irritated. "You could at least _try_ to act like this is a great honor. Hear me, Listener, and comply. Tell Cicero the words he has waited to hear for so long. Tell him: "Darkness rises when silence dies". Then you must travel to Volunruud, and speak to Amaund Motierre. Go now, my daughter."

Nessa felt the Void fading around her and she was falling. With a sudden lurch the doors to the coffin opened and she fell out of it, collapsing to the floor with her head spinning.

"What? What treachery is this?" Cicero shrieked. "Defiler! Debaser and defiler! You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother's coffin!" He drew a deep breath and shouted. "Explain yourself!"

Shaking her head, trying to free it of the fog that was wrapped around her brain, Nessa pushed herself up onto her hands, only to collapse again as Cicero leaped on her and wrapped his hands around her throat. "Stop…" she managed to squeak out. "I'm the Listener."

Cicero's fury kept the words from sinking in. "You… you worm! You tricked me with your friendship. Betrayer!" His fingers tightened around the girl's throat, cutting off all air.

Hungering for air, Nessa's body was flooded with strength born of desperation. She managed to roll them over and pry his hands lose with her own fingers. She drew a deep breath and considered screaming, but she was certain if she did Arnbjorn would come crashing through the door and Cicero would die. "Listen to me!" she hissed. "She spoke to me. She said…"

For a moment Cicero looked in stunned disbelief at the girl. _Spoke to her? Her? A mere girl? _She was barely blooded. What had she done to deserve this honor? It was impossible. It was a further betrayal. He pulled back his hand and slapped her hard. "You lie! More treachery! More trickery and deceit! Astrid put you up to this, didn't she?" He pulled his arm back to slap her again, but she blocked the blow. "The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener!" he shouted. Saliva speckled his lips with the force of his seething.

"Cicero, listen to me!" She worked one hand out from under herself and laid it on her dagger, ready to pull it free if it was needed. "She said to say, 'Darkness rises when silence dies', that it would mean something to you."

The words seemed to finally pierce Cicero's fury, although disbelief crossed his face. "She said those words… to you?" _A mere girl. Night Mother, are you truly serious? _"Darkness rises when silence dies?"

Nessa nodded. "I swear it, Cicero. Please… let me up. I think I'm going to be ill." The enormity of what had happened was beginning to sink in and it roiled her stomach.

He rolled off her and watched as she staggered to her feet. She rushed over to a bucket and vomited over and over again until her stomach was completely empty, even then she wretched miserably.

"Those are the words," he said slowly, his voice finally lowering. "Those are the binding words, written in the keeping tomes. The signal so I would know." _Truly Mother?_ He shook his head sadly. "Mother's only way of talking to sweet Cicero…"

The bitterness crept back into his voice and Nessa felt sorry for him, sorry and ashamed. She didn't want this role and Cicero had longed to hear the voice of the Night Mother. "I'm sorry, Cicero. I didn't mean for it to happen." She wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand and poured some water from a pitcher into a glass and rinsed her mouth. The smell of her vomit was filling the room making her nauseous once more.

With another mercurial mood change, Cicero struck his hands together and began to dance. "Our Lady is back! She has chosen a Listener! She has chosen you!" He grabbed Nessa's hands and twirled her around him. "She has chosen you! All hail the Listener!"

Cicero's manic mood swings, the smell of vomit, the disaster with the Night Mother speaking to her were too much. She pulled away from Cicero. "No!" she shouted, ran to the door, yanking it open, and rounding the corner, nearly slamming into Arnbjorn.

"What happened?" he said. He reached out to steady her, noting that half her face was red and there were red marks around her neck. _If that damned clown touched her…_

Nessa stopped for only a moment. Her mouth opened and shut, but no words would come out. She shook her head. Tears spilled down her face and she pulled herself away from him and ran to her room, slamming the door, and locking it.

_What now? _Throwing herself on the bed she gave into her grief. "I'm not the Listener. I can't be. No, no, no!" She pounded her fists against her pillow. "This isn't happening. I'm not the Listener." The denial became a litany she repeated over and over to herself until she was exhausted and fell asleep.

_~o~o~o~_

Arnbjorn was torn between following her and killing the clown. Nessa was safe now so he'd see about dismantling the clown piece by piece. He stepped into the Imperial's room and saw him dancing joyously. "What did you do to her, clown?" he snarled, pulling the great ax off his back, and advanced on the gamboling idiot.

"Cicero did nothing, wolfman! It was the Mother who did it. She spoke at long last. She spoke to the cherub! Imagine that, a sweet girl, a sweet nothing of a girl, chosen to be the Listener. Who would've guessed?" He twirled and clapped his hands.

Arnbjorn's gripped loosened on his ax as the words penetrated. "Listener?" He'd long ago decided the stories of the Night Mother and Sithis were tall tales, meant to frighten children and idiots. He was neither. "Nonsense."

"She spoke the binding words! The words the Night Mother tells the Listener, she told Nessa. At last, a proper Listener. A proper leader!" Cicero danced merrily around Arnbjorn, ignoring the threat of his ax.

_By the gods… if it is true..._ Arnbjorn's heart gave a lurch in his chest. Astrid would never stand aside for someone else to run the guild. This would tear them apart at the seams, each one of them in their own way. He could slay the jester and swear Nessa to secrecy. No one ever need know but him and Nessa.

His hands refused to grip the ax properly. His mind ordered his body to action, but it refused. Some deeply buried instinct against murdering a brother, no matter how gratifying it might be, picked a very inconvenient time to assert itself. Maybe it was the gods themselves intervening.

"If I find you've lied, clown… if you've harmed Nessa… You will die. This I promise." He sheathed the great ax and turned to walk out, still pondering why he couldn't just kill the jester and be done with it.

There was nothing to do now but tell Astrid.

_~o~o~o~_

Nessa's door was locked and she wasn't answering when they knocked. Astrid wasn't sure whether she should be alarmed or annoyed. Oh, she was annoyed. Nessa… the Listener? It was preposterous. She was just a child and all this nonsense about Listeners, Speakers, and Keepers was some left over antiquity. Why would Nessa claim to be the Listener? No, that wasn't quite right, Arnbjorn was convinced from what Cicero had said, but Cicero was mad. Arnbjorn knew better, too. He'd never say such a thing unless he believed it.

Astrid paced back and forth in front of her door. "Hurry up!" she snapped at Arnbjorn who was trying to pick the lock. She was concerned for the girl too, of course. She'd been very upset, her husband said. If she truly believed that the Night Mother had spoken to her… what if she had harmed herself? She certainly had enough poison brewed, or sleeping draught, to do away with herself.

The lock pick snapped off in the lock and Arnbjorn hit the door in frustration. "Call Festus to blow the damn thing off its hinges!"

Taking a deep breath, she laid a soothing hand on her husband's head. "It's all right, Arn. Just try again. Best we not drag more people into this." She was the guild leader; she had to keep people calm. They'd figure this out. She found she was trying as much to calm herself down as she was Arnbjorn.

He knelt in front of the door again and began to work on the lock. This time it opened with a satisfying click. They went into the dark room without lighting a candle; they could both see adequately in the limited light coming from the open door.

Astrid sat next to the girl and watched her deep, regular breathing. _How'd she manage to sleep through all our noise? _She could sense the slow, regular beating of her heart. There were tears still drying on her cheeks. Her annoyance evaporated when she saw Nessa like this. "Nessa?" she said softly.

Her eyes fluttered open and she furrowed her brow for a moment, unsure where she was. She'd been so deeply asleep, almost as if drugged. She remembered being upset and crying and… _Oh divines! _It came rushing back to her and she gasped, sitting up abruptly. "I don't want it!"

"Shush, sweetling," Astrid spoke calmly, sweetly to the girl, cradling her against her shoulder. "Now tell me, exactly what happened. Who was Cicero talking to and… what happened?"

"He was just talking to the Night Mother. Saying… stuff. You know how he is. Then… I seemed to go somewhere else. A dark but beautiful place and she was there." Her voice trailed off, remembering how beautiful the Night Mother looked and the serenity of the twilight landscape.

"Go on," Astrid urged her. She stroked a hand down her arm to reassure the girl.

"She spoke to me. She said I was the Listener. I tried to tell her she was wrong, but she got a little angry about that. Then she told me what to say to Cicero so he would understand and she told me to go to Volunruud and speak to Amaund Motierre." Unable to hold the tears back, they began to roll down her face again. "I'm sorry, Astrid. I don't want it. I would undo it if I could."

Astrid cast a look at Arnbjorn, her brows drawing together in concern and disbelief. She patted the girl's shoulder and let her go. Pacing the room she said, "The Night Mother, from everything we know, only speaks to the person chosen as the Listener and she spoke to you." She paused in her pacing and turned to the girl, her voice losing some of its softness. "To you?"

Nessa nodded sadly. She noticed Arnbjorn looking at her. He was silent, but there was a compassionate look on his face.

"By Sithis!" Astrid swore. She would have believed it was a power play if anyone else had made this claim, but Nessa? This girl was the last person Astrid would imagine to be hungry for power or control. Had the Night Mother really spoken to her, or had she been dreaming? Maybe there was another explanation. It would be simple enough to verify. They could go to inquire into this person she'd been told to find… Amaund Motierre; if he existed, then it was true.

"I know where Volunruud is," Astrid said.

"Do you want me to go find this man?" Nessa asked. Astrid's face had closed off. She didn't know what she was thinking any longer.

"No." The question nettled Astrid. Arranging contracts was her job, already Nessa was trying to take over just because she _thought _the Night Mother had spoken to her. "No! Listen, I don't know what's going on here, but you take your orders from me. Are we clear on that?"

The words stung Nessa. She flinched at the rising anger in Astrid's voice.

"The Night Mother may have spoken to you, but I am still the leader of this family. I will not have my authority so easily dismissed." Astrid turned away from Nessa and walked to the door. She paused and turned. "I… I need time to think about all this. Go see Nazir in the morning. Do some work for him. I'll find you when I'm ready to discuss the matter further." Astrid turned and walked out the door, her arms crossed.

Arnbjorn shook his head sadly. He lingered behind until his wife was out of hearing range. "I'm sorry, bit. Give her some time. We'll work this out, all right?" He crossed the room to her and lightly traced his hand down the red mark on the side of her face. _I should have killed the clown_. He turned, his heart feeling heavier than it had in a long time, and followed his wife.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Thanks for reading. I always enjoy reading your comments, so if you have a second, please review!_

_My thanks to: ScarletNyx, Eniverante, Biff McLaughlin, xJanelex, TheOtherLachance, zevgirl, Hadrian Le Fey, cromar21, KK Jace, Heiwako, Steffiii07 for the review! Always enjoy the feedback. _

_I have three gift-stories to write before xmas, not counting this one. So there may be a bit of a break before I am back on this. Heiwako wrote a lovely gift-story for me: It is Chapter 4 in "Taking Care of Business". It is about my favorite Skyrim pairing: Maven and Mercer. They were made for one another, don't you think?_

_Happy Thanksgiving everyone!_


	23. Chapter 23

**Skyrim**

She dreaded night when she would pitch her tent in the darkening evening and her troubled thoughts would swirl around her like blood gnats. It wasn't the thoughts that she dreaded so much as it was the way she was torn from them each night and sent to the twilight world of the Night Mother's corner of the Void. Not that she saw the Night Mother again, she didn't, but she recognized that tranquil eventide that she visited the moment she lay her head down. The bothersome thoughts would dissipate in that gentle place and then she'd fall into a deep, natural sleep.

It frightened her. What if she needed to awaken at the approach of a footstep and couldn't? It finally happened one night and she awoke quickly, bow in hand, as if pre-warned of danger approaching. It was a saber-cat and she had calmly shot as it leapt for her. The arrow had pierced her eye, and penetrated into the brain. As she threw herself to the side, out of the cat's trajectory, it hit the ground dead.

Of all the fears she had, at least she knew that whatever sorcery pulled her into the Void at night, she would return when she must. Still, the loss of control frightened her. She tried to deny sleep, staying up all night one night, refusing to rest even though her journey had been exhausting.

It didn't work. The sleep stole over her, taking her like a silent Argonian assassin would take a guard when he yawns sleepily. She awoke the next morning, warmly cradled in her bedroll and not knowing how she got there.

The next night it happened in the blink of an eye, literally. She was perched on an uncomfortable rock, staring into the fire, determined not to let the Void-sleep take her, but the fire warmed her knees and her face; her eyelids slipped, just a little, but that was all that was needed. Again she awoke well-rested and comfortable in a bedroll she had no memory of crawling into.

By the time she'd completed Nazir's first assignment, she'd stopped trying to fight it. Every morning, the prior night's torturous thoughts were forgotten, but they'd accumulate around her throughout the day and by night she'd be cursing her fate once again.

Slowly, however, she grew inured to the role she'd been assigned. Perhaps Astrid would come to realize that she didn't choose this role for herself. She didn't want it. Maybe Arnbjorn could make her understand. It had to be over between them she understood that. When she got back to the sanctuary, she'd stay out of Astrid's way. Of course she wouldn't challenge her authority. Arnbjorn had always made it clear that Astrid came first with him. And Astrid… _She hates me now. _The guild leader's words replayed in her head. It was her tone more than the words, the anger, but the message was clear: _You're a threat._

There was something about the concentration, stealth, and danger that cleared her head. _I'm a professional. _She vowed to put her thoughts in order. _If I'm to be the Listener, I won't be able to hear Her over the noise in my head. _

She didn't like it, but there had been plenty of things in her life she hadn't liked. She had, so far, survived them all. She would survive this as well.

_~o~o~o~_

"You need to go to Volunruud and check out her story." Astrid had been in a terrible mood ever since the Night Mother had spoken to Nessa.

"You still don't believe her?" Arnbjorn was beginning to get impatient with his wife. Her paranoia about Nessa was entirely unfounded as far as he could see. Nothing, _nothing_, about Nessa bespoke someone who would grasp after power.

"I didn't get this far—we didn't become the last surviving sanctuary—by not being careful. So, no. I don't trust her. We both know she's not entirely what she seems. She seems like such a _good _girl and yet she murdered Grelod. And she was a thief. I should've seen it before. The pieces never did fit right, Arn."

"You're nuts, Astrid. That girl loves you. She'd do just about anything for you."

"She loves you, Arnbjorn. She always did." She slammed a dagger down against her table. "She not only wants my job, she wants my husband. Well, I won't have it."

Arnbjorn grabbed his wife's arm as she leaned against her desk. "Stop this, Astrid. If she can hear the Night Mother she can tell you, and you can assign the contracts. Nothing has to change. We can work this out."

She turned around, her eyes holding distrust and suspicion. If, as she suspected, Nessa had been playing them all along, how far under her sway was her husband? He might love her. Sending them to Solitude together had been a mistake. _What an idiot I've been._ "Yes, we will work it out." She smiled at her husband.

The smile did nothing to reassure Arnbjorn; there was too much vampire in it. Nonetheless, he left for Volunruud.

_~o~o~o~_

It was not by coincidence that Nessa returned to the sanctuary several hours before dawn. Everyone should be asleep by now. She could steal down the stairs and into her room. She had the entire day plotted out. Astrid would come down to breakfast with Arnbjorn, about the same time as always. Nazir was always the last to leave the kitchen. She'd wait until everyone else was gone from the kitchen, slip through the back way into the kitchen, and report to Nazir. Then she'd just slip back into her room. With luck, it could be days before Astrid figured out she had returned.

Fate, of course, had other plans. Astrid was waiting for her in the hallway. She had heard the door rolling open. Arnbjorn had already returned and no one else was out on assignment. The girl looked startled to see her. _A guilty look. Well, at least she has a conscience. _"We need to talk."

Nessa swallowed and tried to remain calm. She wanted to throw herself in the older woman's arms and beg her to understand that she didn't want to be the Listener, and that she'd do anything to go back to the way things had been. But if she hadn't gotten through to Astrid, why should she believe it would be any different now? "Of course. What is it?"

Arnbjorn had found Amaund Motierre at Volunruud, just as Nessa had said. "I believe you. Something is going on. I'm not entirely sure what it is, but… Well, we need to find out." Astrid's voice was calm.

Nessa nodded, daring to hope that she was coming around.

"If the Night Mother gave you an order to talk to a contact, we'd be crazy to ignore it. I think we can both agree, Cicero's enough crazy for this sanctuary."

Nessa blinked slowly, but didn't respond.

"So, go to Volunruud. It's a crypt to the north east. Talk to this… Motierre. Let's see where all this leads." Astrid watched Nessa absorb all of it. She'd been surprised when Arnbjorn had returned with word that Amaund Motierre existed and was, in fact, waiting at Volunruud. She thought about going herself but it would be more interesting to see how Nessa handled this. Would she use this as a springboard to get the others to agree to back her for guild leader? She'd considered all the possible scenarios, including a possible purge. But it was too early to act. Only she, Nessa, Cicero and Arnbjorn knew that the Night Mother had spoken to her.

So far Cicero had kept quiet about Nessa, but Astrid could see that his silence wouldn't last forever. He was like a teapot about to boil over. His insanity seemed to ebb and flow, but for some reason, now that a so-called Listener had been found, his madness seemed to have quieted some.

Nessa nodded slowly, trying to glean meaning out of everything Astrid was saying and how she said it. Her voice was low and calm, but professional. There was nothing of her prior anger, but also nothing that spoke of their intimacy either.

"Any questions?" Astrid asked. Nessa looked like she would burst if she didn't speak, but she remained silent. "You can leave tomorrow." Astrid smiled briefly and turned away, leaving Nessa behind her. It would be best if she kept Nessa busy and out of the sanctuary while she figured out how to deal with all… _this. _Arnbjorn was another issue. He was clearly angry. Nessa had sunk her hooks into him more deeply than she had known. He defended the girl from every allegation she made. He thought her entirely guileless. _Ha! Women are never guileless. _Well, keeping her out of the way might make him rethink.

Nessa bit her lip, wanting to speak but afraid. Finally she said, "Astrid." But it was too late; she'd rounded the corner already and Nessa had spoken too quietly. She stood look at the spot where Astrid had disappeared and sighed heavily. Readjusting her backpack, she trudged heavily down to her room. The Void-sleep claimed her yet again.

The trip to Volunruud was like most of the other trips she'd made for the guild, only this time there wasn't an assassination to perform. She was performing the duty of the Speaker. As Cicero had explained it, the Speaker was secondary to the Listener. She would have suggested to Astrid that she would be perfect for the job, but the implication is that she, Nessa, would be in charge. She knew that wasn't going to be acceptable to Astrid. So… onto Volunruud. This would work itself out somehow.

~o~o~o~

"By the almighty Divines. You've finally come. This dreadful Black Sacrament thing… it worked." Amaund had peered into the shadows and seen a slender form wearing dark, close-fitting armor. "It took longer than I expected. I've been here for a several weeks." He wiped his hands nervously on his tunic, they were getting sweaty. "Not complaining, but I'm no fan of crypts and the sacrament is… well, starting to smell."

The shadow stepped into the dim light of the room he'd set up in. It was… a girl? Well, properly a young woman, he supposed. She sure didn't look like an assassin with her pink cheeks and blonde braids. "You _are_ from the Dark Brotherhood?" His voice registered his skepticism.

"I am." Her brows furrowed. No one else from the guild would have such a problem getting the respect of a contact. Even Babette would. She spied a burly looking guard, dressed in Imperial armor, standing behind the Breton nobleman.

"Are you sure? You look far too… Well, if I might be blunt, inexperienced." Amaund began to get testy. The Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim didn't seem up to his rather complicated task if they were sending a mere girl to him.

Nessa began to get angry. It had been ridiculous for Astrid to send her, but she had. Maybe Astrid was testing her, to see if she were truly worthy of the Listener title. She mentally cursed herself and her constant trying to second-guess the guild leader. _I will not fail, and that's all there is to it!_ Once again she thought of Babette and wondered how the little vampire would handle it.

_It should be obvious, silly. Lie!_

Nessa almost looked around, but realized Babette was nowhere nearby. "I am far older than I look," she said. She kept her countenance impassive and calm, imagining herself to being much older and wiser than she was. "My people do not age." She imagined Babette nodding in approval.

Amaund frowned for a moment, then his eyes widened and he took a step back. "Ah, yes. Well, I suppose that makes sense." He rubbed at his neck nervously. "I'll cut right to the chase, then. No sense in small-talk, I suppose."

"Do." Nessa felt a moment of pride at sounding so mysterious and even perhaps a little commanding. Perhaps the Night Mother was inspiring her performance.

"I would like to arrange a contract. Several, actually. I daresay, the most important work your organization has had in, well… centuries."

Nessa's stomach tightened and she began to feel a little sick to her stomach, but she carefully kept her internal feelings out of her expression. _Why now, Night Mother? Why not wait until I'm a little more experienced with this sort of thing? _

"Go on."

Amaund watched the girl, or whatever she was, closely. He wanted to see how she would react. "As I said, I want you to kill several people. You'll find the targets, as well as their manners of elimination, quite varied. Someone of your… disposition… will probably even find it enjoyable."

Nessa gave a small half-shrug and tried to look bored. "Perhaps."

"But you should know that these killings are but a means to an end. For they pave the way to the most important target. The real reason I'm speaking with a… with _you_… in the bowels of this detestable crypt: I seek the assassination of…," he paused for dramatic effect, "… the Emperor."

The last part didn't sink into Nessa's brain for a moment, which was good since her façade was already being strained by her nerves. "Business is business. He'll die like anyone else," she said, coolly. Then it hit her. _The Emperor? I must have misheard. _Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. She was glad the crypt was dark, she was sure all the blood had drained from her face.

Amaund was impressed with the… creature's insouciance and quiet confidence. Perhaps the rumors of Skyrim's Dark Brotherhood being the last of a dying order were overblown. "Wonderful. You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that."

The man began to pace back and forth, his jubilation clear in his voice. Nessa could barely focus on his voice with the word _emperor_ was echoing through her mind.

"So much planning and maneuvering. It's as if the stars have finally aligned," he continued, talking almost to himself. "But I digress. Here, take these." He looked over his shoulder and called to his guard. "Rexus." He clapped his hands sharply as if calling the man by name wasn't enough of a prompt. "The items, Rexus!"

The guard shambled forward, a menacing sneer on his face. "Here." He thrust a letter and an ornate amulet at Nessa.

She took the items and looked at Amaund for further explanation.

"The sealed letter will explain everything that needs to be done. The amulet is quite valuable—you can use it to pay for any and all expenses."

Nessa stood there a moment, wondering if he had more to say, but when he remained silent she nodded. "Where will you be staying? We will need to find you to report our success."

The girl's… err.. creature's… self-confidence was inspiring. "I'll be staying at the Bannered Mare in…."

"Whiterun." Nessa nodded. "I know it. We'll be in touch." She turned, her stomach lurching with anxiety. She faded into the shadows and slipped away silently.

Amaund turned to his guard. "Well… that was interesting. I confess, for a moment, I had my doubts." He gestured to Rexus to lead the way out of the crypt. "I thought she was a mere chit of a girl. Ha!" He barked out a loud laugh, made all the louder by his nerves. "A vampire, Rexus. Imagine that. I suppose it makes sense they'd make use of those blood-thirsty creatures. Vampire gets a meal. Dark Brotherhood fulfills a contract. Everyone wins. Well, everyone but the poor dead fool."

The pair wended their way out of the crypt as Amaund babbled. When the door creaked open they squinted. Blinded and stumbling, they came out of the dark crypt where the noon sun assaulted their eyes.

"My lord…," Rexus said, hesitating to mention the tiny detail. It was hardly significant now.

"Yes? What is it, Rexus?" The note of impatience crept back into his voice.

"Do vampires go about in the sun?"

Amaund stopped in his tracks and swore softly. It was too late now to do anything. Either the girl was a very old, very powerful vampire—if such tales were true—or he had been bamboozled by a mere girl.

_~o~o~o~_

"Did you meet Motierre? What did he want?" Astrid asked her shortly after she set foot into the sanctuary.

She'd had a few days to live with the news and wonder how Astrid would react. "He wants us to kill the emperor." Nessa had rarely seen Astrid look at a loss for words.

"You're joking," the older woman said.

Saying nothing, Nessa took the sealed envelope and amulet out of her backpack and set it on Astrid's desk.

"What's this?" She looked at the envelope and picked up the necklace. "Exquisite."

"The letter should explain it all. The amulet is for expenses," Nessa said.

"By Sithis, you're not joking." Astrid looked up in wonder at Nessa. _How did she get the trust of someone powerful enough to order the emperor's elimination? _"To kill the Emperor of Tamriel… The Dark Brotherhood hasn't done such a thing since the assassination of Pelagius. As a matter of fact, no one has dared assassinate an Emperor of Tamriel since the murder of Uriel Septim, and that was two hundred years ago."

The skepticism in her voice was obvious. "I don't think the Night Mother would misdirect us." Nessa said.

"No, she certainly wouldn't. And… for whatever reason, she chose to relay Motierre's information to you."

Nessa heard a note of bitterness creep into Astrid's voice.

"I don't know exactly what's going on here, if you're the Listener, or this is some fluke, or what. But what we now have before us…." Astrid trailed off, lost in thought.

"So we'll accept this contract?" Nessa asked. _Can we even turn it down if the Night Mother told us to go?_

Astrid laughed. "You're damn right we'll accept it. If we pull this off, the Dark Brotherhood will know a fear and respect we haven't seen in centuries." She turned to Nessa, her pleased expression turning into a slight frown. "You don't think I'd abandon an opportunity to lead _my_ family to glory?"

There it was, the possessiveness Astrid held for her position. It made Nessa's heart sink. Being the Listener would always irk the guild leader. Well, it was fine with Nessa if Astrid wanted to continue to be the leader. She'd just… well… listen.

"This is a lot to take in," Astrid continued. "I need time to read the letter, and figure out where we go from here. And this amulet. Hmmm…. I'll need to get it appraised and see if we can actually sell it." She gazed at the exquisite amulet in her hand. There was only one man who could truly appraise this item—Delvin Mallory. She considered for a moment sending Nessa, but remembered they'd snatched the girl from the thieves' guild in the first place; it'd be a mistake to send her back. She'd go herself.

"Good job, Nessa," Astrid said, smiling at the girl. "Take some time to rest up, you've earned it. I'll be running some errands for a few days."

"Thanks, Astrid." Nessa smiled at the guild leader. It felt good to have her work acknowledged. Maybe… perhaps their relationship was irrevocably changed, but at least they could work together.

Astrid smiled pleasantly and turned to walk back to her room.

Nessa, emboldened by her successful assignment and Astrid's praise decided to risk it. "Astrid. Wait."

The older woman paused in her tracks and turned around. "Yes?"

"I didn't want any of this to happen." Nessa felt her moment of brashness rapidly fading under Astrid's gaze. "I want to go back… to how things were... If we can." As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she felt foolish.

It was no wonder Arnbjorn was so taken in by her. It reminded her of when Nessa had first come to them—so shy, so vulnerable. For a moment she remembered how she too had responded to her, and the moments, both tender and passionate, that they'd shared. Could she be wrong about her? No. Suspicion and wariness had always served her well. "It's over, Nessa. We'd all be best served by accepting that now."

The hardness to the faint lines around Astrid's eyes said it all, even if her mouth hadn't just said it. Nessa inhaled deeply as if she'd just been punched. She didn't exhale again until Astrid turned and walked away.

Astrid left the Sanctuary that very day, eager to get on with the greatest task ever set before her. With misgivings, she left Arnbjorn behind and made it quite clear she didn't want him near the girl… _the Listener_. His response had been a simple growl which could've meant many things, but mostly it held the promise of an explosive argument if she pursued the topic, so she'd abandoned it.

_~o~o~o~_

"Well, as I live and breathe, Astrid. What brings you to see your old chum, Delvin?"

Her chuckle was warm and low as she hugged Delvin and kissed him on the cheek. "It seems just like yesterday, doesn't it?"

His answering laugh was just as low. "To you, maybe—it's been almost half a lifetime to me."

"I never should've let you leave, Del. You were a good assassin. The lot I have to work with now… I can barely trust them with anything sharper than a butter knife."

Delvin knew the game. "Oi, don't complain to me about it. I spend half my time springing this bunch out of jail." He gestured expansively. "Things aren't what they were."

Astrid looked around and began to wonder if her old friend would be able to help her. "What's happening, Del?"

"We're just having a run of bad luck. A very long run of bad luck. Some might laugh, but I think we've run afoul of some god. If there's something that can go wrong, it will go wrong. Our profits have plummeted. We even lost a promising young recruit… but I reckon you know about that. That seemed to cap off the worst of it. Some of the lads haven't been the same since."

Nessa. She knew this topic would come up. "Ah, yes. Sorry about that, Delvin. There was a matter to settle."

Delvin nodded, staring at the floor, a little frown on his face. "I figured as much." He looked at Astrid, his keen eyes searching her face. "What was it? I never could figure out how a sweet girl like her could run afoul of the Brotherhood, but then I never figured her for a thief either, and she was a damn good thief."

More proof then that Nessa had managed to perfect the façade of an innocent. A talented thief, but an innocent? Hardly. "Your sweet, _innocent_ thief stole something from us. A contract. She murdered Grelod, right here in Riften. That was our contract, bound by the Black Sacrament."

"By Arkay's balls. Our Nessa?" He rubbed the rough scruff on his cheek and mused. "Look, I know this ain't any of my business, but Brynjolf never has come to grips with this. It might help the lad to know the girl is dead, if she is."

Astrid didn't answer for a moment and considered her words. Maybe she could foist Nessa off on the thieves. That would be one way to be rid of her. But the Night Mother was a complication. She couldn't just ignore the fact—no matter how irritating she found it—that Nessa was the Listener. The Night Mother wasn't likely to appoint another one while she still lived.

"She's dead."

"Hmmm. Well, good to know, I suppose." Delvin pursed his lips and nodded. Brynjolf hadn't been the only thief in the guild holding out hope. To his surprise, he felt a little grief. Of course, they all knew she was probably dead, but to know for sure… that was another matter. Well, they could put that behind them now.

"So, the reason I'm here, Del…," Astrid said, changing the topic.

"Ah yes, back to business, I presume?" He watched her closely as she pulled something out of a pocket. "Wait, a minute, love. Never do business dry, I say. Can I buy you drink?"

Astrid smiled at Delvin. "I doubt you're serving what I drink, Del. But go right ahead."

Delvin chuckled and rubbed his cheek. He motioned to Vekel and the bartender refilled his flagon.

Astrid reached into a pocket, pulled out the amulet, and dangled it in front of Delvin. "What do you make of this?"

"Where, oh where, did you get this?" His tone was one of awe. He squinted at the amulet and put his hand under it.

"A Breton. A client. A very ambitious client." Astrid dropped it into his waiting hand.

Held up to the goat horn lamp, the rare engravings shimmered. He examined it closely "This is an amulet of the Emperor's Elder Council. Specially crafted for each member. Worth a small fortune. Ain't somethin' you'd give up lightly. If you killed a member of the elder council…."

Laughing lightly, Astrid said, "No. No one that important has died… yet. This is to cover our expenses, Delvin. This one is big."

"I don't want to know, love." He held up a hand.

"Oh, you'll know soon enough." She laughed again, almost giddy with the knowledge they would kill the emperor. "Well, will you buy it?"

"Buy it? This? An Elder Council amulet? Oh yes. Oh yes, indeed. I'll have to give you a letter of credit. Our standard arrangement."

A smile crossed Astrid's face, the one that showed just a hint of her vampire fangs. It was one that Delvin knew from his years, decades ago, in the Dark Brotherhood. "Of course. I trust you implicitly, my old friend," she said.

Ah, the games they used to play. Delvin chuckled and wrote a number on a piece of paper and handed it to Astrid. "You know I'd never cheat the Brotherhood, love. This is a very generous offer."

Taking the piece of paper, she glanced at it. Far too experienced to give away how impressed she was by the sum, she pushed it back over to Delvin. "That will suffice."

"Excuse me a moment and I'll make this formal," Delvin said. He rose from the table and disappeared into inner sanctum of the thieves guild. Emerging a few minutes later, he handed Astrid a sealed note. "I think you'll find everything in order."

Astrid smiled gently this time. Leaning in, she kissed him on the cheek. "Always a pleasure, Delvin. Keep your ears open, old friend. The Dark Brotherhood's star is rising once more." She pocketed the letter of credit and disappeared into the darkness.

_~o~o~o~_

The Listener watched him as he gently picked up the Night Mother's corpse and laid it out on the long table covered with a black silk cloth.

"Can Cicero help you, Listener?" he asked. The cherub was looking unusually serious and quiet. "Is the Mother speaking to you?" He poured some scented oil into his palms.

Nessa shook her head. "No. Just that once."

"How about now?" Cicero asked then broke into laughter. He began to massage oil into the corpses desiccated limbs.

Sighing with irritation she shook her head. "No." She watched the Keeper tend to the Night Mother while humming and chattering.

"What would happen if a Listener refused?" she finally asked.

Hands slowing in their work, he glanced at the girl. "_A_ Listener, Listener?"

"Has anyone ever just walked away from it?" she pressed. "What if the person who got it, didn't want it?"

"Not want it? I must not have heard you right, Listener." Cicero's voice wound higher. "Cicero doesn't understand. How would someone not want to talk to the Night Mother?" His voice dropped into low, threatening tones. "For years I begged to hear her voice… I don't understand the question. Not want to hear the Night Mother?"

Eyes closed, drawing a deep breath, she tried again. "Just… a pretend question, not a real one, Cicero, of course. Just a sort of… _what if._"

"Oh! Make-believe, I know that game!" He laughed. "If a Listener didn't listen, or ran away, I would imagine the Night Mother has ways of making herself heard. Maybe she'd haunt the Listener in her dreams, hmmm? Maybe the Black Hand would hunt down the Listener and bring her back, force her to listen. Keep her chained up in the dungeon, so she wouldn't run away again." He giggled madly. "That's all pretend and make believe, of course." He went back to grooming the corpse.

"Of course," Nessa mumbled.

She left Cicero tending to the Night Mother, and went to her room. The hot spring would be a welcome place where she might be able to relax a little. She changed and went to the peaceful grotto. Slipping out of her robe, she eased into the water. It was a blessing that no one else was here. The hot water might have eased the tension in her muscles, but it did nothing for her mind. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against a rock at the edge of the pool.

Cicero was probably right. Every night she was being pulled into the twilight realm of the Night Mother. She didn't relish the idea of angering her again; she'd already shown impatience with Nessa's questions. She tried to relax herself and let her troubles wash away and she succeeded to some extent, but a splashing sound brought her back in an instant and she Arnbjorn's naked form slipping into the water quietly.

"Sorry, bit. You looked so peaceful there. I didn't want to disturb you." His gruff voice was softer than normal.

"It's okay. I should probably get out anyway." She stood to leave and, as she passed Arnbjorn, he caught her hand with his and examined her fingertips.

"You haven't been in that long. Don't go." He noticed the pads of her fingertips weren't wrinkled in the slightest. "I've been wanting to talk to you."

He didn't let go of her hand, so she sat next to him. "What's to say? Astrid made it clear… all that is over. I… understand. There's nothing more to say." She tried to pull away her hand and leave, but he wouldn't let go.

"There is more to say, Nessa. Sit down and listen." He turned his old glare on her, but it didn't intimidate her any longer. "I'm sorry Astrid is acting like this. I don't know if I can get her to listen, but I'm trying. When all this began, bit, it was for her." He felt like his throat was going to close off to prevent him from saying what he wanted to say, but the words kept coming. "I don't want this to end." It was his last chance to escape… "I care for you, morsel." Then his better sense kicked in and his brain shut down his mouth. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to him, gently.

"I care for you too," she said. "For both of you," she said, very softly, in a whisper only he could hear.

It was just a kiss. Not a particularly long, or an unusually passionate kiss, but the moment was uncharacteristically tender for one who was sometimes more wolf than man. Astrid watched them, unseen in the doorway until they parted. Then she melted away into the shadows, a quiet fury erupting within her.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__My thanks to Draton, Holly, Nightlain, Moosesaregreat, Janele, Biff, Cortana Phantomhive, Zevgirl, cromar21, Scarlet Nyx, EllaBea, Inuyashagirl2015, KK Jace, steffiii07 and Heiwako for you invaluable feedback and encouragement. I always love to get reviews!_

_I apologize for the long time away from the story. Holidays, and I had to write presents for a few friends. My Skyrim readers might enjoy the story "The Bear and the Maiden" which is a bit of unrepentant PWP written for my friend, Heiwako. Those who also read my Dragon Age stories might enjoy the latest chapter in "The Lost Chapters" which is the continuation of Lucy's saga in snippets. One of the upcoming chapters is going to be a present for Zevgirl. _

_I was hoping to get a little further in this chapter, but decided to end it here just to get something out. I'm intending to restart writing on "Post-Blight Management for Dummies" so chapters of this story may take a little longer to come out. Sorry about that, but my PBMfD readers have been without updates for a long time. _


	24. Chapter 24

**Riften**

"Pull up a chair, lad." Delvin bumped the chair next to him with his foot, inviting Brynjolf to join him. "Mead's on me." He raised an arm to catch Vekel's attention. "Oi, two Black-Briars here."

"Buying the good stuff tonight, Del?" Brynjolf smiled and pulled out the chair. "Someone bring in a good haul?"

"You might say so. A friend brought me an interesting piece." He held up the elaborate amulet that Astrid had brought him. "What d'ya make of this?"

Brynjolf took it and examined it closely. "Empire design. Not from the Septim era. Nice piece. Worth what, a few hundred septims?"

Delvin chuckled. "Not a bad guess… you're accurate about everything but the price. This is worth several thousand septims to the right buyer. It's the symbol of the Emperor's Elder Council. This beauty here can open doors. In the right hands, someone could get very, very wealthy."

The amulet caught the light and gleamed richly as Brynjolf examined it. He whistled his appreciation. "Nice find, old man. How'd you come by this?" He handed the expensive bauble back to his friend.

Delvin raised his hand again and beckoned Vekel over. "Keep these coming, lad. See the boys in the cistern have something too. The regular will do for them." He turned back to his friend. "I'll tell you later."

"Celebrating tonight, Del?" Vekel asked.

"Yes and no." Delvin wasn't quite ready to share his news about Nessa. It wouldn't be that much of a surprise, but knowing she was dead was a different thing from thinking she might be dead. The thieves, all of them, need something to make the news go down easier.

Just freshly released from jail, Brynjolf was nursing a bruise to his ego. He'd spent three full weeks in a miserable, damp cell in Whiterun. He couldn't even pick the lock. Delvin had paid the fine, and kept his mouth shut about it. Brynjolf owed him. He was starting to believe that his old friend was right about them pissing off some deity. Just when things seemed like they were turning around, Nessa disappears and it all goes to Oblivion again.

Pretty soon Delvin and Brynjolf had a few meads under their belt and the rest of the thieves were crowding into the Flagon drinking. Free booze always made the thieves particularly happy. But before spirits got too high, Delvin pushed his chair away from his table and stood, raising his hand to quiet his lads.

"Gents," he said, nodding at Brynjolf and some of the boys. "Lasses," he nodded to Tonila, Vex and Sapphire. "Mercer ain't here and perhaps that's best. The old man paid more attention to the dust on his boots than her. "

"Her?" Brynjolf asked, a chill creeping up his back. "Who're we talkin' about here?"

"Nessa, lad. Your last protégé. That amulet came to me from the leader of the Dark Brotherhood." He clapped a hand on Brynjolf's shoulder.

"I know we all suspected that our sweet Nessa might be dead. She poked her nose into some business she had no right to interfere in. Well, tonight I heard from their leader. She is, as I think we all knew, dead. So, I propose we lift a few to the lass. She wasn't long on this world, but I for one will miss her. She was a damn good thief and looked just as pretty going as coming." He looked down at the ground a moment and then raised his tankard in the air.

There was a moment of stunned silence in the bar. The announcement had dampened spirits like an ice storm. Then, one by one, the thieves each raised their tankard and said "To Nessa". All but Brynjolf. He sat unmoving staring at the table his face looking wooden.

"Come on now, lad. Put a good face on it," Delvin urged him in a quiet voice.

Finally Brynjolf's chair scraped slowly across the floor. He'd been looking a little sour since his time in jail, but now he was frowning and his forehead was furrowed.

"To a fine lass, Nessa. May she rest with her gods now," he muttered and sat back down again, then drained the rest of his mead in a lengthy draught. After finishing, he pushed away from the table and was about to stand.

"Where you goin', Brynjolf?" Delvin asked.

"Out." His expression looked dangerously angry.

"Naw, don't do that. These lads look up to you. Let's honor the girl's memory by gettin' proper piss-faced. They miss her too." He grasped Byrnjolf's forearm and stared into his friends face.

Teeth clenched, fury was roiling just below the surface. "What right do they have, Del, breaking into the cistern, tampering with our drink, and killing one of our own. What's it say about us… about me, that I let this happen?" He hissed his words angrily, but quietly, at Delvin. "What sort of men are we if we don't do something about it?"

"Whoa, calm down there, Bryn. This is the Dark Brotherhood we're talking about. Nessa blundered into something she shouldn't have. They did what they do, and throwing your life away, or dragging the boys into a fight with assassins isn't honoring her memory." He clenched his friend's forearm to try to make himself heard. "Let's say a final farewell to the lass tonight. The girl was a Nord and we'll send her off in proper fashion."

The fight went out of Brynjolf and he didn't stop Vekel from refilling his tankard.

Niruin, sitting at the bar, stood up, his slight stature making him a head shorter than most of the Nords present. "I'd like to say something about Nessa." His brothers took seats in the Flagon and gave him their full attention. "Actually, it's a poem, sort of."

There was a big outburst of laughter. "Leave it to Niruin. We should send him to Bard's College," Thryn joked.

"Shut up. Be respectful. This is for Nessa." He turned a glare at the former bandit. "All right, it goes like this:"

_One lass, so young and fair  
>Fingers nimble on locked doors<br>Our sorrow you're with us no more._

_Your thieving skills were second to none  
>You stole from us all, each one<br>A heart you took and now you're gone._

_May you rest in the place where good Nord lasses go.  
>Try though we did to make you a bad Nord lass<br>You died a good one._

Everyone remained silent, not quite sure if the Bosmer was finished.

"That's all I got. I know it don't rhyme right, but it came from the heart," Niruin said. He drained off his tankard.

A loud sniff broke the silence and Rune wiped his nose on his sleeve. "It was actually… pretty good. She was like a little sister to me, you know? I always thought one day she'd be back, smiling like she does, real shy, you know? But she never did. Now she never will."

"Yeah… can't say I liked my sister in quite the same way I liked Nessa," Thryn admitted. "I was always curious 'bout what Vipir and her did that one time. That was what… just before she disappeared wasn't it?"

Vipir glared at Thrynn. "Be respectful. There weren't nothing between us. I got her to kiss me once. That's all."

The conversation devolved as they drank more. Sapphire told a story about their first meeting and Vex grudgingly admitted Nessa was competent. Brynjolf drank silently, stewing in impotent anger while Delvin listened to the stories and told some of the stories of jobs Nessa had done for him.

"She had that bit of spark. Some kind of aura about her. When Bryn brought her to us I thought maybe our luck had turned. Every job she did went off without a hitch. Whatever curse we had, it seemed like she was immune from it. Lady Luck smiled on our Nessa."

"Until she got murdered by the Dark Brotherhood." Brynjolf muttered. "Doesn't seem so gods damn lucky to me."

Rune began to stumbled about the bar and burst into tears. "Those… flowers she loved. Nightshade. They're all in bloom in the cemetery." He staggered to the door of the cistern. "I'm going to pick some for her."

Vipir and Niruin rushed after him, certain he'd fall into the water. Everyone else slowly drifted out of the Flagon and they headed to the ladder that would take them outside to the graveyard above their hideout.

Rune sliced off nightshade blooms and Vipir gathered lavender. In a few moments, the graveyard was picked clean of flowers. They laid them on top of the sarcophagus that served as the secret entrance to their guild. Brynjolf leaned against the wall that sheltered the sarcophagus and watched them.

"Brynjolf, she was your protégé. Why don't you say a few words," Delvin suggested.

He stood a moment, looking down at the collection of flowers and remembering her eyes. He fished a ribbon out of his pocket, one that she'd left behind and he had carried as a talisman. He wished it were daylight so he could properly see it and remember that shade of blue. He finally laid the ribbon on top of the pile of flowers.

"I always thought there was something more to her than what we were seeing. Something maybe she didn't properly know either. She wasn't just a pretty girl. She wasn't just a damn good thief…"

"Or damned good with a bow," Niruin interjected.

"Right, that too," Brynjolf agreed. "She didn't just have eyes that looked like the sky over Solitude on a clear day."

Rune sobbed noisily and Vipir clapped him on the shoulder. Delvin was willing to bet there wasn't a dry eye in the bunch.

"She had something in her. Maybe it was a kind of goodness that can't be turned bad by the likes of us. It was a sort of purity of soul that is immune to any and all corruption. I think the gods saw that and they took her from us before anything could spoil her."

Delvin felt himself misting up over Brynjolf's words. He'd summed it up good. "Well, I can't say fairer than that. If she didn't deserve it on her own, Brynjolf's testimony should get her a right good seat next to one of the gods."

"Dibella, no doubt," Vipir said. "The Queen of Heaven would want a pretty hand-maiden." He picked up a flower off the sarcophagus and sniffed it sorrowfully.

Clasping his friend Brynjolf briefly in a one armed embrace, Delvin and Brynjolf began the climb down the ladder to the cistern. They heard the beginnings of a fight breaking out behind them.

"Should we go back and break it up?" Brynjolf asked the older man.

"Naw. It'll make them feel better. It's just how they grieve." As he said it, Delvin realized it probably would make him feel better too. "Say, I heard tell a couple of lads from Falkreath in town been stirring up shit about the thieves guild. What say we show them some good old Riften hospitality?"

A half-smile crept across Brynjolf's mouth, the first of the evening. A brawl would resolve some of the feelings of impotent rage. He cracked his knuckles and pulled on his gloves. "I think that might be how I grieve too."

_~o~o~o~_

The next day Brynjolf rose at the crack of noon and stumbled to his washbasin to study himself in the mirror. "Ah lad, you've never looked better," he said to his reflection, wincing as he dabbed at his broken lip. The swelling would go away soon, but the purple bruise around his eye would be there for quite some time. The Falkreath lads were most likely waking up in the middle of the road, looking far, far worse. He chuckled again at the memory of loading them into a wagon like sacks of potatoes and dumping their unconscious, naked bodies outside Riften.

_What now? _

That was the question on his mind when he awoke. Delvin had a series of opportunities lined up in Solitude. He was going to send Vipir or Niruin, but Brynjolf woke this morning with the feeling he wanted to be far away from Riften. He'd do the jobs in Solitude himself. Delvin would get the most experienced thief and he'd get to escape from…

_From what? _

His shame, his frustration, and the feeling like something had been cut out of his life. It was ridiculous. She'd been gone six months and they'd assumed she was dead, but it was different when you really knew. It was too easy to think maybe… just maybe there'd been a mistake, an exception to the rule. He even remembered thinking he'd seen her outside Solitude the last time he'd been there.

_Sorry, lass. _He apologized to the memory of the girl he'd failed to protect and now he was failing to avenge. He couldn't escape the truth in the words Delvin spoke: Vengeance would just end in death, or worse. Nessa wouldn't rest any easier for it. He'd just have to get over this and move on.

He shaved himself gingerly, trying to avoid the sore spots, and packed up his kit. He was on the road within the hour.

_~o~o~o~_

**Sanctuary**

"What do you want, Cicero?" Babette asked the Keeper. He'd been hovering around her alchemy lab while she was mixing potions all morning. She was starting to wish he'd go oil, or do whatever it was he did to his corpse charge.

"Seeing," he said. He was seeing. Seeing how his Skyrim brothers would respond to the news that there was a new Listener, it seemed Astrid hadn't bothered to spread the news. "Seeing is as important as listening, hmmm? Cicero can see, even if the Night Mother speaks to someone else."

Babette looked at the assassin and sighed. "And what do you see, Cicero?"

"Cicero is seeing whether or not his brothers, and very little sister, honor the Night Mother."

Babette shrugged. "Two hundred years ago, I would've lain down my life for the Unholy Matron. But that is an age long since passed. Astrid is my matron now."

Hissing like a kettle, Cicero frowned at the un-child. "And if the Mother should speak to one of us, what would you think then? Maybe then you would suddenly remember how many digits you have on a hand and how many tenets the Brotherhood has."

Babette smiled at Cicero, her cheeks dimpling. "I haven't broken any tenets, at least none that I recall. Besides, I think that the Night Mother hasn't appointed a new Listener, if she ever did, means she's gone. We only survive here by our own wits." She turned flounced toward Cicero and stuck out her tongue. "So there! Nyaaah!"

Cackling happily, secretly enjoying the antics of the undead un-child he flicked his fingers at her playfully. "Oooh, Cicero thinks you _are_ a sassy child. The result of too much indulgence and too few spankings. It just so happens there _is _a new Listener. A secret, it seems." He chuckled happily and patted Babette on the head. "Well, I'm not one to tell secrets. Nope! Not Cicero." He laughed again and left the little alchemist behind. One thing Cicero knew about Babette was she hated knowing there were secrets, and not sharing in them. The other thing was that Babette loved to gossip.

"Wait!" Babette left her half-mixed potion on the alchemy table, knowing well she'd have to throw it out if she didn't finish it. "Wait!" She ran after him and tugged on his tunic. "Is there really a Listener? Did the Night Mother speak to someone?"

Cicero winked conspiratorially at Babette and squatted down beside her. "Of course, if Cicero tells you, you'll have to keep it secret. Are you good with secrets?"

Babette nodded vigorously. "I'm extremely good with secrets." Her fingers were crossed behind her back.

"All right, then, I suppose I can share this one. The Night Mother spoke to…," he broke off and twisted his head around to look for anyone who might be listening, "…Nessa. Nessa is the Listener!" He could help himself. His voice rose in volume and pitch and it sounded like a high-pitched squeal. "Imagine that! She spoke to our cherub!"

"Shush! Shush!" Babette tried to quiet him. It wasn't going to be any fun if he gave it away. She wanted to be the one to gift this nugget of knowledge to her friends. But… _Nessa_? She knew instantly what trouble was brewing. _Poor Nessa._ She felt a moment of sadness for the girl. Oh, the trouble this would cause. Astrid would be livid, of course. "Cicero, are you jesting?" Babette asked.

The question brought on a gale of high-pitched laughter that ended with a long, drawn out. "Noooo! Cicero wouldn't joke about that. Nessa said the words, the words by which I would know that she truly is the Listener. The wolf-man knows and the pretender knows too." He cast a sly look at Babette. "Odd they wouldn't share that with you and the others."

It did explain a lot: Nessa's sad looks, the coolness between her and Astrid, and how she'd been avoiding everyone lately. _Nessa, the Listener._ Of course, this was likely to stir up all sorts of trouble. Or fun, depending on your point of view.

"Not a word, now!" Cicero put his finger over his lips and sent one last warning glance to Babette.

"Not a word." She bobbed her head up and down and smiled at the crazy Keeper. She watched him walk down the corridor and turned to go see Gabrielle. It'd been awhile since Babette had brought Gabby any really juicy gossip. This would serve. This would definitely serve.

_~o~o~o~_

"Are you trying to get her killed?" Arnbjorn asked as his wife explained the next step in assassinating the emperor.

"You have so little confidence in her abilities?" Astrid settled her back against the wall and folded her arms across her chest. "Is there anyone else in the guild that's as good a shot as she is?"

Scowling at his wife, Arnbjorn sat at the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. "And how does she get away, afterwards?"

"She's going to need to find a good escape route." She shrugged. "Look, it's dangerous being an assassin. Obviously the Night Mother has confidence in her. And… so do I." Smiling at her husband, she crossed the room to him and stroked his cheek. "I have the utmost confidence, darling, and so should you."

He stared into her eyes, looking for the truth, but Astrid had a hundred years of practice at hiding her emotions. There was nothing to see beyond her confidence and sanguinity. "Let me go with her. I'll make certain she gets away," he asked.

Those words cut into Astrid like knives. Of course he wanted to go and spend four weeks with the girl, relive whatever had happened on their last trip to Solitude, she thought. "No, darling. I think it's time she took a difficult job on her own. We can't shelter her forever."

Arnbjorn glowered at his wife. With anyone else, he would have agreed, but he was suspicious of Astrid. It'd be too convenient if she gave Nessa a job too difficult, one nearly guaranteed to kill her. He covered her hand, the one on his cheek, with his own then turned her hand palm up and kissed it. "Don't forget what the three of us had, my love."

"Oh, I haven't." She kissed him tenderly. "I'd better tell her so she can prepare. There isn't any time to waste. The wedding is in two weeks."

Arnbjorn nodded and watched his wife leave their room. He just couldn't shake the feeling that Astrid was sending Nessa to her death.

_~o~o~o~_

_They settled into Riften for the winter, taking a cheap room in the slums. Barenziah joined the Thieves' Guild, knowing there would be trouble if she were caught free-lancing. One day in the barroom she caught the eye of a known member of the guild, a bold young Khajiit named Therris. She offered to bed with him if he would sponsor her for membership. He looked her over, grinning, and agreed, but said she'd still have to pass a test._

_"What sort of test?"_

_"Ah," Therris said. "Payment first, sweet thing." He put an arm around her, leaned over and kissed her, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth and his free hand into her shirt._

_"Nice," he said presently, withdrawing his tongue, but not his hand. His other hand slid down inside her waistband and fondled her buttocks._

_"Let's go upstairs. We can use my room," Barenziah felt both embarassed and excited by his boldness._

_Therris grinned insolently. "Why bother? You want me, don't you? I'll bet you'd pay me, wouldn't you?"_

_"No," Barenziah said. She did want him, but not that badly._

_"No? Well, a bargain's a bargain and Therris keeps his word. But here. Now." He hiked her skirt up and pulled her onto his lap so she sat astride, facing him. He opened her shirt and pulled it down on her shoulders so that her breasts were exposed._

_"Nice pair, kid." She was facing the wall but she could feel the stares of the other patrons. A hush had fallen over the place. Even the bard had stilled. She felt both nausea and a hot burning desire. Her hands released his turgid penis and then it was inside her and she was screaming in both pain and ecstasy. Then everything went black._

The rap on the door startled Nessa and she closed the book she was reading, _The Real Barenziah. _She could feel the flush on her cheeks still, but went to open the door nonetheless.

"Ah, Nessa. Good you're in." Astrid went into her bedroom as she opened the door. She smiled warmly at her and wondered about the flush on her face, then saw the book lying on her bed. Sidling over to the bed, she glanced at the title and laughed. "Ah ha! Oh well, I see you're keeping up with your history lessons."

Flushing even harder, Nessa said nothing, but looked at Astrid expectantly.

"Well, I hope you have something nice to wear. Because you're going to a wedding.

"A wedding?" she asked.

"Well, more like a public reception. It should be a lovely affair. You'll mingle with the guests, eat some cake… stab the bride."

Nessa's eyes widened with surprise. "Stab a bride? At her wedding?"

Her hearty warm laugh bubbled up from her throat. "Well, that's usually where you find brides, isn't it? You don't actually have to stab her, just kill her. At her wedding." She laughed and looked rather amused. "And they say romance is dead. Well, it will be after you kill it."

_Kill a bride?_ For the first time, an assignment made her queasy. The thought of killing a woman on a day that should be so happy unnerved her. "Who is the bride?" she asked.

"Her name is Vittoria Vici. She oversees the East Empire Company's business holdings in Solitude. The wedding is being held in that city, at the Temple of the Divines. Her death will cause an uproar, which is exactly what we want." Astrid settled herself on the edge of Nessa's bed and continued.

"Vici is likely to address her guests frequently, as is the wedding custom. Kill her when she does that, and I promise you a significant bounty. You'd best go as soon as possible. Leave today if you can. You'll only have a day or two to plan once you get there. Do you have any questions?"

Nessa bit her lip and thought about it all. "I'm going alone on this one?"

_No, my husband isn't coming with you. _Astrid's smile wasn't entirely real. "I won't lie to you, this will be dangerous, but you're up to it. I have every confidence in you. A job like this is best done alone. One assassin has a better chance of escaping than two."

_And if I don't escape, that's not so bad? _Nessa thought. "Can I ask, why me? I know some of the other assassins are more experienced…."

"Tsk, tsk, Nessa. I chose you for good reason. You're the one the Night Mother spoke to. It makes perfect sense. If she has such confidence in you, then so do I."

"Must I stab her?" Nessa asked.

"This is a public kill. How you do it is entirely up to you. Arrow to the throat? Knife to the belly? Your choice, so long as it's loud and messy. Because of the current political climate, people are going to assume the murder is related to the bad blood between the Legion and Stormcloaks. In any event, when Vici dies, it's going to be complete pandemonium. Best have your escape route planned out in advance."

"Is this connected to Motierre's contract?" Nessa asked. "What is her connection to the emperor?"

"Good question, Nessa. She's the first cousin to the emperor. Vici has obvious Imperial connections. Her husband has ties to the Stormcloaks. Their union is a step toward reconciliation. So if there's a murder at the wedding… Not only will that stall the peace process—it will send shockwaves throughout the entire Empire. The emperor's hand will be forced. He'll have to travel to Skyrim to deal with the aftermath… and he'll find the Dark Brotherhood waiting."

Nessa couldn't suppress her gasp. So, this murder would put the entire plan to kill the emperor into play. If she failed… she'd be letting down everyone.

"You'd best leave as soon as possible," Astrid said, rising from Nessa's bed. She stopped at the doorway and turned back with a pleasant smile on her face. "Do give my best to the bride." She chuckled as she left her room.

Nessa shut her door and slowly, still stunned by the assignment, began to pack.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__And there we are! Getting all caught up to the initial vision I had of this story… well, one of them. Next chapter will be awhile coming. I am going to finish up my chapter of PBMfD (it's coming along) before I start it. And this next chapter is special to me. I've been daydreaming about it for ages. _

_Thanks for the reviews! Love them! They really keep me excited about the story. Thanks to Inuyashagirl2015, KK Jace, Zevgirl, Biff, Isala Uthenera, Heiwako, TheOtherLachance, MrsSage, Nightlain, and Blue Dartwing!_

_Oh yes, I've been reading some amazing Mercer stories from the Skyrim Kink Meme… bless you Metrophor. You should look them up. I have such a crush on Mercer now. Yeah… weird, isn't it?_


	25. Chapter 25

**Sanctuary**

There was tension in Sanctuary. Veezara's flickering tongue could practically taste it as he sampled the air. Arnbjorn seemed more dour than normal but Astrid seemed cheerful enough. Nessa had slipped away the prior day, without saying anything to any of them. In the common room, Arnbjorn was sitting in front of the grinding wheel, working the pedals, but not sharpening his axe. He'd been sitting like that for several minutes.

"Troubles, my brother?" Veezara asked the Nord.

Arnbjorn roused out of his reverie and looked at the Argonian. He said nothing for a moment and then spoke. "You've been to Solitude a lot, haven't you? If you were assassinating someone at the Temple of the Divines, how difficult would it be to escape?"

Shrugging, Veezara thought for a moment. "It all depends. Inside or outside? There are many places to hide inside. Stairwells, forgotten rooms, closets, but getting away from the area is difficult as you've got to pass through a narrow, well-guarded gate."

Arnbjorn drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But could you do it?"

Veezara nodded. "I have done it. There are ways to get away, secret entrances to the sewers, or even rappelling down the battlement walls. Do you have a contract in Solitude you need me to handle?"

Not answering immediately, Arnbjorn considered carefully. Astrid wouldn't take his sending Veezara to Solitude well, but he could handle that. The question was, would he be able to get there soon enough? "Do you think you can get to Solitude by Sun's Height 7th?"

"I think so. I can take the wagon from Falkreath. What is my task?" the Argonian asked.

"You need to help Nessa. She is tasked with assassinating the Emperor's cousin and I'm worried she won't be able to escape." Arnbjorn admitted his concern openly, knowing that Veezara would keep his own counsel.

"Ah. Then I should leave immediately. Do you know where she's staying?"

Shaking his head, Arnbjorn looked concerned. "I don't." He clapped a hand on Veezara's shoulder and squeezed it companionably. "See that she gets away, brother." He turned to leave and then stopped and turned around. "Please."

His tongue flickered out to sample the air curiously. The guild master's mate was uncharacteristically worried. Veezara moved swiftly to his room and packed quickly. He was out of the Sanctuary before the hour had passed.

**Solitude**

_**Brynjolf**_

The influx of people into Solitude was surprisingly heavy. Carts heavily laden with barrels of food, mead, and fabric were waiting to roll past the gates. Brynjolf's fingers itched. Purses, heavy with coin, dangled from many a belt.

_Don't do it, lad, _the thief told himself. That three week visit to the cooler in Whiterun had him cautious. He'd attend to Delvin's business before he did anything else. The crowd coming into the city did set fire to his curiosity. He struck up a conversation with someone else passing through the gates and learned there would be a royal wedding in two days. That explained the crowds. People were coming for the free food and booze served at the public reception. Not only that, but this long line of wagons would be bringing supplies for the nuptials.

Maybe their luck was turning. Nocturnal was watching out for them again. He laughed at himself. It was a silly superstition, he knew. Still, getting gaffled in Whiterun made a fellow think about such things. He hadn't been caught since he was a kid. This would be the sort of trick Nocturnal would pull though; get a guy to take a risk, then leave him just as the city guard turned the corner and collared him. Lady Luck was a fickle bitch.

Heading to the inn, he rented a room. He'd stay until after the wedding. If he cleaned up, he'd take the wagon back to Riften. He didn't mind the walk. The two weeks on the road had cleared his head. He'd thought about Nessa, but now he was at peace with it… unless he thought about it. _Like I am now, gods damn it. _Even now, thinking of her caused a little pit to open in his gut. All right, it wasn't as bad as it had been. He didn't feel like trying to single-handedly track down the assassins who did it… well, not as much. But he swore if he ever saw one, he'd at the very least beat the living crap out of him.

By the time he'd gotten himself cleaned up and presentable, ready to tackle the first of Delvin's jobs, the sun was low in the sky. It didn't matter, just slip in, alter a few numbers in an accounting book, then slip out again. Easy stuff.

_**Nessa**_

She frowned as the walls around Solitude came into view. Dismounting from Shadowmere, she unfastened her bags.

"Wish me luck, horse. I'm not so sure about this one, boy." Forehead furrowed with worry, she pressed it against the horse's ebony face. "If I don't come back… well… I guess you'll probably go home and then everyone will know." She bit her lips to stop the tears that were stinging at her eyes and then laughed at herself. "I'm being stupid. Don't listen to me Shadowmere. I am coming back. I swear it." She tugged her bags off him and patted his nose one more time. "If all goes well, I'll be back tomorrow. Keep your hooves crossed." She giggled over her last comment. It was stupid, but at least it kept her from being nervous.

Shadowmere nudged her affectionately with his nose. "Well. Bye, horsey." She turned and walked away, taking the last few miles on foot. She blended the best she could with the crowd coming into Solitude. Her clothes were plain and she wore a hood that covered her hair. This time in Solitude, she didn't want to be noticed. There were no rooms available at the Winking Skeever but she found a more modest boarding house willing to let her a room.

She went to the Temple of the Divines to begin to look around and started to lose hope. The entrance to the temple was through a heavily guarded, walled gate. It also housed the Castle Dour, which had its own contingent of guards. Everyone going in and out of either the castle or the temple had to pass through that gate and all those guards. She climbed into the battlements and looked around. No one seemed to care and other people were admiring the view, so she just tried to fit in.

Perhaps with a rope and a grappling hook she could rappel down the side of the wall. It seemed iffy. Guards could just stand at the top and shoot down at her. There were a few places where she might be able to jump down without breaking her leg. She wasn't heartened at all by either of her options.

Next she went through the temple. She took note of the balconies that looked like they would have a good view of where the newlyweds would address the spectators. Deciding this balcony was the best possible spot; she would come back that night and set things up.

After milling around Solitude for several hours, she went to her room and got a few hours of rest late in the afternoon. With the sun set, she went back to the temple, dressed in her dark leather, and tried every door, peeking into every room, looking for a better option, but she found nothing. She eventually went out to the balcony she'd spied earlier and sat out there gazing up at the stars. Not many options were left. It would be suicide to try to escape through the gate. That left the wall. How many guards would be posted along the wall tomorrow? She had no idea.

She climbed back up the battlements and found a spot to hide her rope and grappling hook. It wouldn't do to set it up in advance; someone would surely find it and be forewarned. Next she walked to the other spot, the one that was a long, chancy drop. She marked it by leaving a rock on the wall.

Two chances, then. The rope would take her down to the cliffs above the ocean. She could hide herself in that rocky, steep climb. The other chance would get her out of the inner fortress formed by the castle and the temple, but she'd still have to find her way out of the city. She spent the rest of the night prowling around Solitude, noting where the guards were and which alleys might be the most promising escape routes.

She went back to her room one last time to get a few hours of rest and collect her belongings. She was up and out a few hours before the sun came up. Sitting quietly in her little balcony, she mulled over everything over in her mind. Would Astrid come to regret how she'd distrusted her if she should die. Arnbjorn… _Arnbjorn… _She sighed and wiped away a tear thinking of how he had kissed her before she left. Arnbjorn cared. He would grieve for her… at least a little.

Strangely, as the sun rose, her thoughts turned from her lovers and went back to the thieves she'd left in Riften—to Brynjolf.

"_Is something troubling you, lass?"_

She looked around, almost expecting to see him. His words, always warm and kind, had encouraged her, had held her up when she'd doubted herself. _"Yes, Brynjolf. I'm scared," _she imagined herself saying. _"I don't think I can do this." _

"_I have faith in you, Nessa."_

Didn't they have that conversation before she burgled the Golden Glow estate? Only she never admitted she was frightened. He'd had faith in her and his warm words were still soothing when she recalled them.

At last the sun came up and she dozed until the hubbub grew loud enough to wake her. She stretched her limbs, and worked her fingers until they were limber, but remained crouched down behind the short wall that hid her. It might still be hours until the bride and groom left the private ceremony and came to celebrate with the people of Solitude. She risked peeping over the wall to see how many people were there. So far it was only servants and merchants preparing.

Boredom mixed with nervous anticipation made the time seem to pass at a torturously slow pace. It took all her discipline not to imagine every possible poor outcome. Prison, killed by an arrow in the back, oerhaps even imprisoned and then tortured to extract information from her—all were possibilities. She touched the flask of sleeping draught she kept in a snug pocket. There was enough there to kill herself. If it looked hopeless, she'd take it and slip into a deep coma and then die. That would be preferable to betraying her brothers and sisters.

But what if they called a healer? Maybe a mage would be able to purge the poison from her system and she'd end up being tortured after all. There was the dagger strapped to her calf. Perhaps she should just stab herself. But what if she hit a rib or missed her heart? Would it work to stab herself and then drink the poison? Thinking of all the ways she could fail to kill herself worried her more than missing her target. When she found herself biting her nails down to the quick, she heard Brynjolf's voice again.

"_I have faith in you, lass."_

It settled her nerves and instead of dwelling on all of the worst outcomes, she concentrated on remembering him. Brynjolf's red hair, the way his eyebrows kind of turned up at the ends, the scruff on his cheeks when he hadn't shaved, and his usually tidy goatee—it all came back to her. There was an old, faded scar on his left cheek. She hadn't ever worked up the nerve to ask him about it, much less carry out the desire to extend a finger and trace it down his cheek. How could she forget his green eyes and a nose that looked like it might have been broken once?

He had a fine, high forehead too; one that you might assume harbored a considerable intellect. She supposed he was a genius of sorts, the way he could talk anyone into almost anything. Her smile was wistful when she imagined he'd probably talked his way into bed with a lot of women with that smooth voice. The very way he said "lass" was enough to send a thrill up her spine.

But there, set between the frame of his mustache and his strong chin, was that one feature she had sometimes found herself staring at: his mouth. What would it have been like to kiss that mouth? This new line of thought took her through the slow moving morning. She stopped feeling nervous when she thought of him and wondered about him, about what he was doing, and whether he ever thought of her. Probably not.

When she once again thought of the task ahead of her, she added Brynjolf to the list of people she couldn't fail.

_**Veezara**_

He was caught in the slow-moving crowd trying to squeeze into Solitude on the day of the royal wedding. There was barely any time to spare. He calculated his odds of being able to find Nessa were slim. It would be slow going sneaking into the temple without being spotted in this press. A human could mingle in with the crowds, but an Argonian would stand out. Certainly he could infiltrate the temple, but to find Nessa in time to get her safely out, that would require a great deal of luck.

"Sithis watch over your children," he prayed silently as he carefully blended into shadows and slipped behind the guard. Once inside he scanned the crowd looking for his sister. A pair of chairs were arranged across the courtyard from the temple. Clearly this is where the couple would sit and receive the adulations of the crowd and the blessings of priests. There was also a balcony above the stairs and, judging from the decorations, they might go up there to address the crowds. To his experienced eye he saw three ways Nessa might choose to fulfill the contract. She could hide herself in the balcony above the chairs. When the couple came upstairs to address the crowd, she could strike, close-in, with a dagger. Another option was to strike from above. A gargoyle was poised above the balcony. It might be possible to loosen it from its base and push it down onto the bride and groom.

But it was the third possibility that he knew would appeal to Nessa's abilities and proclivities. There was a balcony across the courtyard. A decent archer could easily shoot the bride from there. Getting up there would be tricky with all these people around. The best he could do, he thought, was to create a distraction so she could get away.

He crouched in a shadowy recess and waited for her to make a move.

_**Nessa**_

Finally the priests of Mara entered into the courtyard and brought order to the gathering. Risking another peep over the short balcony wall, Nessa scanned the crowds and what she could see of the battlements surrounding the temple. There were plenty of guards, but she would be hard to see in her shadowy balcony.

The high priest spoke, but his words were lost to Nessa. All her nervousness and worry were fading away. There was a sense that destiny had swept her into its current and was carrying her now. The momentum was building a deep focus in her, stripping away everything unnecessary to the task. The sounds of the crowd, the voices of the priests were all irrelevant. Success and survival, in that order, were the only two things in the world that mattered.

With senses taut as her bowstring, she waited and then heard a roar of applause coming from the audience. Another look over the wall verified that the bride and groom had entered. They sat on the two chairs and toasted one another. This was not yet the time to strike. Astrid had been clear, kill the bride as she pontificated to the audience to make the sharpest statement. Once again hunkering down, Nessa bided by until she heard another enthusiastic round of applause and looked again. The bride and groom were heading for a doorway into the tower that almost certainly led to the balcony across the courtyard from her own.

She worked her fingers again, stretched her arms, flexed her legs and readied herself. Then she heard a strong female voice make a strong pronouncement. What the words were, Nessa would never know. Her every sense was focused on the task. She rose up from her balcony and raised her bow, fitting the arrow to the string, and pulling back her arm. Her body, after crouching for so long, unfolded and stretched, her muscles complaining only a little.

_**Veezara**_

Watching the balcony, he saw the slender silhouette unfurl. The bow, held so steadily, was almost an echo of her form. "Sithis protect her," he mouthed the words.

"Honored guests," Vittoria said, gesturing expansively at the crowd, "I just wanted to take this time to thank you all for being here. To thank you for sharing this wonderfully happy day with myself, and my new husband.

"In this courtyard, there are no Stormcloaks. There are no Imperials. There are only people, come to celebrate a union of two souls. So make mer…."

Veezara saw the arrow speeding across the courtyard. To almost everyone else, it seemed as if the arrow burst out of Vittoria's throat. The Imperial woman crumpled to the ground and, for one brief moment, there was utter silence in the courtyard. Then the courtyard erupted into chaos. People screamed, some ran for the exit, other began looking for the source of the arrow. He silently congratulated his sister on her flawless, well-timed kill.

The Argonian took that moment to leap out from his hiding place and ran for the stairs leading to the ramparts. People saw him and began to shriek, "Murderer!" Some of the guards began to run after him. Other guards, not so easily fooled, knew the arrow must've come from another direction. They began running toward the ramparts behind the temple.

_**Nessa**_

For a moment Nessa couldn't move, she could only watch the arrow fly across the courtyard and strike the woman in her throat. The bride's eloquent words stopped as the arrow struck home and she teetered backwards and then crumpled. Moments passed, then an outcry started that broke Nessa out of her trance. She dashed to the doorway leading to the temple and threw it open, running madly up the stairs, clutching her bow.

"Murderer!" She heard the screams from the courtyard and assumed that they were meant for her. She paused only for a moment and saw a knot of confusion below her. There was a form dressed in red and black, the colors of the Dark Brotherhood, fleeing in another direction. "Veezara?" Nessa said to herself, watching the tail swing as he ran.

There was no time to speculate on what had brought her reptilian brother to her aid as there were guards on the ramparts that had spotted her. An arrow whizzed past her, missing widely, but still too close for comfort. She turned and ran for the spot she'd left the rope and grappling hook hidden.

_**Brynjolf**_

In the midst of the bourgeois crowd, Brynjolf carefully looked around as the people attended to the priests of Mara. There were a number of bulging purses dangling off belts, temptingly easy targets. He carefully cut one free and then a second one. He worked his way to another part of the crowd, flashing his congenial smile and begging pardon of those he bumped.

The bride rose to speak and while the crowd cheered he cut another purse. Glancing up he looked to check on the guards. None were paying him any heed. But from the corner of his eye, a slender silhouette stood, bow drawn, aiming at the balcony occupied by the bride and groom.

_Dark Brotherhood scum!_ For a moment he considered shouting out, but thought better of it. Delvin had been right; they didn't need a feud with the assassins. Still, it might feel good to beat the crap out of one of them. He waited until he heard the whir of the arrow slicing through the air and then another fat coin purse dropped into his hand. Sheathing his knife, he looked up to the balcony in time to see the temple door open and close. Inside the temple, he knew, the stairs going down led to a basement without many options for hiding, but the stairs going up led to the ramparts. Either the assassin was going to rappel down the wall to the cliff below, or he was going to a spot where a long, risky drop would set the bastard down inside the city where he might find an escape or hiding place.

While the crowd was still frozen in stunned silence, Brynjolf pushed his way out of the courtyard and began to run. He had spent a good deal of time in Solitude, even lived here for a few years, so he knew his way around. He got to the spot he was fairly certain was one of the two obvious escape routes. Sure enough, the assassin ran past him, nimbly avoiding Brynjolf as he made a grab for him.

"Asshole!" Brynjolf hissed and ran after him. People in the street joined in the chase as did a number of guards.

_**Veezara**_

A hail of arrows fell on anyone foolish enough to run up their stairs after him. Those who chased him would be convinced he'd been the assassin, and that was enough. He waited until it was almost too late, with the guards closing in, and then ran the opposite way Nessa had gone. If he were quick enough, he could leap to a rooftop and then drop down near a secret exit from the walled city.

An arrow hissed past his ear, giving his feet an additional spurt of speed. He approached the edge of the wall at a speed that would leave him little control. He managed to step up onto the crenel at full speed and then leap across the gap and land on the roof of the building below. His breath was knocked out of him, but he couldn't afford to idle. The guards were taking aim at him from the battlements. He got to his feet again and ran. At the edge of the building he dropped to the ground.

Blending into the shadows he carefully made his way to the hollow boulder that hid his exit. When a guard contingent ran past, he made his dash, moved the hollow boulder and plunged into the hole, pulling it back to cover the exit.

"Good luck, sister," he said quietly. He had done all he could. Hopefully she had made it away safely.

_**Nessa**_

Looking back over her shoulder, she could see the guards behind her. They were far too close for her to rappel down the wall to the cliffs. She passed the spot where she'd hidden her rope and grappling hook and headed to the spot where she could jump down. She got to the second spot and breathed a small prayer to anyone that might be listening. Dropping over the edge of the wall, she fell a long distance and landed well-enough, but a sharp pain lanced up her ankle. _Damn it to Oblivion!_ She got to her feel quickly and tentatively took a step. It hurt, but it wasn't broken, a sprain at worst. Ignoring the pain, she ran again heading toward a tower that went up to the battlements and down to a tunnel at the bottom of the cliff. A man was in her path, one she ignored except to dodge him as he tried to grab her.

Her breath came quickly from the exertion and nerves. She turned and ran down the street that led to the tower stairs she intended to use. The man she dodged was still behind her and now guards were joining the chase. Stopping in her tracks, she saw a pair of guards standing in front of the tower. She looked back a moment, seeing her pursuers were getting too close, she made a snap decision to turn down another street. By now she was lost. The mental map she had made of the city was lost in her panic.

The guards at the tower, clearly covering this as a possible escape route, were ready with their bows. There wasn't enough time to form a complete thought, much less whisper a prayer, before the whir of an arrow ended with a thunk, nearly spinning her around with its force, as it sunk into her shoulder. In that instant she knew she would die. She didn't need to reason out that she was lost and couldn't find her way through the maze of streets and alleys, or that she'd leave a trail of blood for her pursuers to follow. If it weren't for the primal survival instinct driving her, she would just give up now and drink the potion and drive the dagger into her chest, but that plan was lost, too, in the stink of panic.

_**Brynjolf**_

Of course, the bastard was going for the tower stairs. _Pretty obvious_. He chuckled to himself. _Good luck with that, asshole. _

There were guards at the stairs just waiting for him, just as Brynjolf suspected. They trained their bows on the runner. One arrow hit its mark in the assassin's shoulder. The arrow penetrated with enough force to turn the man around. _Good. _That the assassin didn't fall down was remarkable. He caught himself and was up and running again. This time he turned down another street. _Idiot doesn't even know where he's going. That street leads to another, and that one is a dead end. _

Brynjolf, now panting and sweating, was about to leave the assassin to the guards, it would almost be enough to know that the Brotherhood bastard wasn't likely to escape and would wind up dead, or worse. Still, there was a long denied sense of vengeance that wouldn't quit nagging at him. _For Nessa, _he told himself. He leapt over a fence and ran down the street he knew he would enter into—the dead end. It was a shortcut and he'd get the bastard before the guards did. Long enough to make sure the fucker couldn't run away any longer. Who knows, maybe there would be a reward for apprehending him.

_~o~o~o~_

Veering around a corner, down another narrow alley, a hand reached out and grabbed Nessa by the back of her cowl. It pulled free of her head, but she lost her balance and fell, flat on her back. She cried out in hot agony as the ground drove the arrow even deeper into her shoulder. Her vision, already blurred from pain and blood loss, dimmed. All she could see was the angry visage of a man looking down at her as if through a hole that was growing smaller and smaller.

"Please, just kill me swiftly," she whispered. The hole closed and she slipped into unconsciousness.

"My gods," Brynjolf whispered in disbelief. "My gods." Words abandoned him for the first time as he realized he was staring into the closing eyes of his former protégé. "They said you were dead… how… Nessa?" There was no response from the unconscious girl.

The guards would be following the trail of blood to them. He had only minutes to get her to safety. It never even occurred to him that if he were found assisting her, he'd likely suffer whatever fate she did. He bent over, gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the closest house, praying that its owners were out. The door was locked, that was a good sign. He balanced her against the door and pulled a lock pick out of his pocket. It opened easily, even while he used only one hand. Staggering inside, he carefully laid Nessa down on a bed and locked the door behind him.

This was no good. They'd surely find the trail of blood leading to the door. He would have to get her out of here quickly, but he needed to stop the bleeding. He yanked open her cuirass, carefully pulling it off where he could, and cutting it where he couldn't free it without jostling the arrow. She was already looking pale from blood loss, pulling the arrow out would only make it worse, at least for a time.

A pair of bottles fell out of her cuirass as he removed it. One looked like a healing potion, the other, a rather large bottle, he didn't recognize. He emptied the pouch she had attached to her belt and found another healing potion.

"Good girl. That'll come in handy." He carefully rolled her onto her stomach and grasped the arrow close to her back. "This is going to hurt, lass. I'm sorry." His stomach knotted at the thought of hurting her further, but he knew he had to do it. He closed his eyes to gather his courage and then yanked it out as quickly as possible. She jerked, but remained unconscious. He thanked Kynareth for that small mercy. More blood welled up and began spilling down her back, soaking into the shirt she had worn under her cuirass. He cut that shirt off her to expose the wound and uncorked one of the healing potions she'd been carrying, and poured it over the wound.

The bleeding slowed enough that the makeshift bandage he made out of her shirt would keep it from dribbling onto the ground. He could get her out of here now. He put the bottles into her pouch and tied it to his own belt. This time he lifted her from the bed and carried her over his shoulder. He didn't want to risk touching her wound.

The back door out of the house led him to another alley. There was a sewer access hatch nearby. He knew the sewers of Solitude nearly as well as the ones in Riften. Once, long ago, there'd been a thriving thieves' guild under Solitude and some of the rooms were in decent enough condition they could hole up there for a time.

It was tricky climbing down the ladder carrying Nessa and navigating the slippery subterranean walkways, but eventually he found the remains of the old thieves' hideout. The one room that wasn't a complete crumbling, rat-infested mess, still had a bed that wasn't too disgusting to use. He took off his own shirt and spread it over the blankets. That would at least keep her torso from the moldering blankets.

He placed her gently on the bed, resting her on her belly. The wound was up, exposed to the air, dank as it was. When the sun went down, he'd risk leaving their hideout and finding cleaner blankets, shirts for both of them, food, water and more potions. But until then, there was nothing to do but sit beside her, wait and wonder.

_Nessa… alive and an assassin. How did this come to be? _He picked up her pale, cool hand and held it in his own for a moment. That feeling he had felt so long ago in the Riften marketplace, when he'd first spotted her, was back. This girl was their missing luck. It couldn't be just coincidence that he was here when she was, or that he'd found her before the guards did. He'd never admit it to Delvin. He had made too many jokes about his friend's superstition to concede that maybe the older man was right.

"The Dark Brotherhood can't have you, Nessa," he said pushing some lose locks from her face. "We spotted you first. It's high time you came back home, lass."

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__I've been thinking about this chapter for quite some time. It has gone through a number of permutations in my head but I've been dying to write it for quite a while. I hope I did it justice. I would love to hear your feedback._

_My thanks to Xaver13, Janele, RakeeshJ4, Nightlain, KK Jace, Heiwako, Inuyashagirl2015, zevgirl, Blue Dartwing, and Biff McLaughlin. I always love to hear from readers._

_I'd like to especially acknowledge Heiwako for pulling me back from the brink of making some serious plot errors. Phew!_

_I'd also like to thank FireBreathingSkwirls on Deviant Art for providing a gorgeous centerfold-like portrait of Brynjolf. I know you have no idea of who I am, but your work inspired me! (Pardon me while I clean the drool off my keyboard)._


	26. Chapter 26

**Sanctuary**

"Where's Veezara?" Astrid asked. "No one seems to have seen him all day."

"I sent him on a mission." Arnbjorn squared off and faced Astrid, readying himself for the fight to come.

"_You…_ sent him off?" Her eyes got a hard sparkle to them he recognized as anger. "Who's guild master?"

"You, my love."

"And why, pray tell, did you send him on a mission?" She glared at her husband, guessing.

"Because you know damn well you sent Nessa to her death. I sent Veezara to help her escape." His lip lifted a little, his own anger growing in anticipation of her reaction.

Arnbjorn went behind her back. Behind her back for _Nessa!_ Always… always Arnbjorn had supported her authority, even nearly killing anyone who dared question it. Now he himself was defying her. It infuriated her, but she was clever enough to keep that to herself. A calculated smile bent the corners of Astrid's mouth. "Actually, no. I fully expect Nessa to survive. She's a capable assassin and she has the Night Mother's favor. It was a difficult job, we both know that, but I wanted her to have the glory of this kill."

Regarding his wife cautiously, Arnbjorn considered her words. He supposed it could be true, but she had to know how difficult this assignment would have been. Astrid jealously guarded her power. He'd been expecting her anger and she was being reasonable. It disarmed him and his anticipatory anger dissipated. "So… you're okay with it?"

Smiling broadly she hugged her husband. "I trust you, Arn. Your instincts are good and that's one of the many things I love about you." She kissed him gently on the lips. "Next time, just talk to me first though, hm?"

He wrapped an arm around her and returned her kiss, his brow only slightly furrowed. After all these years together, she still kept him guessing. "Agreed."

The smile unfolded into a frown as Arnbjorn left her office. Nessa's influence in the guild was becoming insidious. It was becoming all too clear that the Sanctuary wasn't big enough for both of them. Nessa was going to have to go.

**Solitude**

_So hot_. She thrashed weakly trying to get the blankets off.

"There you are, lass," a soothing voice said.

Something… from the past. _Where?_ A cool cloth pressed on the back of her neck, on her face, passing down her arms. "Golden Glow," she rasped. "Did I do okay?"

Brynjolf looked at the girl, still lying on her stomach, her face, glistening with sweat, cheek pressed into a soft pillow. This wasn't good. The wound was infected. "Golden Glow went fine, Nessa. Remember?" He squeezed the water out of the rag again and wiped the sweat off her face. "You were… are my star pupil, lass. Never forget that."

She muttered something; her eyes only opened a slit. It couldn't be. "Brynjolf?" Everything seemed unreal, wrong, like a dream. Hot, so hot. There was an ambush… then a dragon… then… what happened?

"I'm still here, lass." It was the first time she'd spoken since he'd brought her down her nearly a day ago. She was on clean bedding now at least. "You need to drink some water." He carefully slid an arm under her head, lifting it a little, then shot a stream of water into her open mouth from the wine skin. Most of it dribbled out, but she did swallow some. "Is that better?"

She tried to nod, but her neck failed her. Her head lolled against his arm and her eyes drooped shut again. She made a small noise and then was still.

"Don't you leave me again, Nessa," he said as he arranged her head on the pillow. "This didn't happen so you can go die on me, girl." He felt her pulse. It was too fast, too shallow. He was going to have to risk going out again and find a healer. Galum-Ei would have a contact, someone who could be trusted. He didn't want to leave her alone here, but he couldn't move her. He'd get more water into her first. He struggled to raise her up better than the last time and got a little more into her mouth. She swallowed it reflexively.

"I've got to go, Nessy." He arranged her on her back this time, but turned a little so the wound wouldn't press into the bed. "I'll be quick as I can." She might, in her delirium, try to leave. Probably not. She didn't look strong enough to get out of bed, but he would lock the door, just to be sure.

He sat with her a little longer, stroking her face with the wet cloth. The half year she'd been gone had changed her. Her face had matured, leaving her looking more like a woman than a child, tipping the balance from pretty to something more memorable. Her slenderness made her look much more delicate than she was. He'd seen her wiry musculature when she was just in her breast band and he'd seen her run with an arrow lodged in her shoulder that should have, by all rights, knocked her down and stopped her in her tracks.

This wounded woman made something in his heart rip a little when he had pulled away the cowl and seen her. He had failed her in a way that made him feel less of man. He should have hidden her from the Dark Brotherhood, or confronted them, or tried to follow. But he didn't. He and Delvin let them take her without even a fight because they didn't want trouble with Mercer. Right now, watching her struggle to survive, he desperately wanted to trade places with her. "I owe you, lass."

Feeling rather foolish, he squeezed her hand, closed his eyes and prayed. "I'm not a praying man. I don't know if there's anyone out there looking after thieves, or Nords, or pretty girls, but if there is, then I calculate I'm asking a favor here. I can't promise to be anything other than what I am, a thief and a damn good sharpie. I won't promise to be good, or reform, or anything stupid like that. I'd just be lying and you'd probably know it. But whichever one of you wants me to be exactly what I am, I'll do it in your name. I'm just asking you to look after this girl."

Praying was damn foolish, he knew, but he had to try. He got up, fished a lock pick out of his pocket and, with one last look back, locked Nessa into the room in the abandoned thieves' guild under Solitude, making his way to Golum-Ei's hangout.

…..

Swimming up from the depths of unconsciousness and waking only barely, Nessa's eyes cracked open again.

"Well, hello," the Altmer said, his voice rough as gravel. "Didn't think you'd make it. Pretty bad case of lung fever and, well, restoration isn't my forte. But you're a tough one, I'll give you that."

Nessa blinked twice, slowly. _Where am I? Who is this? _"I'm not dead?"

The Altmer laughed and went on talking. "Not today. But you're not fit to move yet. Not for a few days and a whole lot of healing potions." He gestured to the table where he had lined up bottle after bottle of potions. "Four times a day, girly. I've given Brynjolf instructions. You shouldn't be down here, that's for sure. Too damn moldy and wet. If your lung fever comes back it isn't my fault."

Nessa wondered at the torrent of words coming out of the man's mouth and if they ever ceased. As it was, she could barely make sense of them.

"Isn't any of my business why you're down here. Although if I were to guess, it had something to do with that wedding that didn't get consummated." He chuckled to himself. "Not that you look like the sort that would kill a bride on her wedding day. Would you?" He put his finger on her lips. "Nope, don't answer that, I don't want to know."

Enthir rose from the chair and patted his pockets absentmindedly. "Well, I've been a friend of the thieves' guild for a long time and I figure if Brynjolf was a friend of Gallus then I couldn't turn him down, no matter."

"Thank…," Nessa said, or tried to say. Her mouth was parched and the words stuck in her throat.

"No need to thank me, girly. I was just doing what I was paid to do. But, if you survive my healing, let me tell you, I do have, uh… inventory you won't find in many places, if you catch my drift. I'm usually up in Winterhold, freezing my ass off. Come look me up if you need something."

He stuck a bottle in his pocket and left the confused-looking girl.

"How is she?" Brynjolf asked as he came out.

"I'd say she'll live. She's tough, that one is. By rights she should've died. I haven't ever seen anyone come back from lung fever that far progressed. Damned lucky, I should say. Well, my friend, if there's anything I can do for you, just let me know."

Brynjolf exhaled and visibly relaxed. "I'm glad to hear that." He reached into his cuirass and pulled out a bulging sack. "Everything we agreed on, and a little extra." His fingers held onto the sack for a little longer, hating to part with the majority of what he'd earned in Solitude. It looked like he'd be walking home after all.

"Ah, yes. My thanks." Enthir pocketed the hefty sum. "Oh, that bottle you wanted me to look at. It's a sleeping draught. There's enough there to kill a troll."

Taking the bottle from the mage, Brynjolf pocketed it. "Hm, interesting." Perhaps it had been part of Nessa's plan. Maybe she had intended to poison the bride.

The thief and the mage parted, promising to do future business together and Brynjolf went into the room where Nessa was recuperating.

She heard the door open and turned her head. Her eyes were open fully for the first time and she finally seemed aware. "Brynjolf?" Her brow furrowed with confusion. "Where am I?" She looked around the room, tried to rise up on an elbow but her strength gave way and she fell back to the bed and coughed weakly.

He sat on the edge of her bed and touched her forehead. It felt cool for the first time in three days. "You don't remember anything?" She'd woken a number of times and each time had said his name. This time her eyes looked lucid.

She shook her head. "Well… not since the… the…." She couldn't say it, not to him.

"Assassination?" He finished the sentence for her.

Nodding, she watched his face closely. _Now you know what I've become._

"You barely escaped. Do you remember being shot?" He'd had three days of watching her nearly die, long enough to almost get used to the fact she was an assassin.

She gazed into the distance and shook her head. "I remember running…. I got lost." She coughed again and her hand rose to her throat. "So thirsty."

"Ah, lass, I'm an idiot. Of course you are." He got up and took a skin off the wall. "It's just good, clear water. I'd better hold it." He sat on the edge of the bed and propped her up against him. "Am I hurting your shoulder?"

She shook her head. The water streamed into her mouth as he squeezed the bag. She swallowed gratefully and opened her mouth again for more. He let her have a few more mouthfuls. Feeling better, she sighed. "Thank you, Brynjolf and… I'm sorry. I wouldn't have troubled you."

He didn't resettle her back into her bed, but kept her propped again him. "There's a conversation we'll have later. Meantime, you need to heal and rest. I've got some stew and bread for you. Can you eat?"

She took stock of her stomach. Truly, she had no appetite, but the thought of food didn't repel her either. "I might be able to."

"Good girl." He shifted her so she was propped up against the wall and fetched her food.

It was embarrassing to be so helpless. Brynjolf sat back down next to her and began spooning food into her mouth like she was an infant, but his presence was reassuring. There was so much she wanted to say, but where to start? How to explain why she had disappeared and what she had done that had started her on this path. How could she tell him that once she'd killed for the Dark Brotherhood, she couldn't come back? Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over her lashes.

Setting the bowl on the end table, he wiped her tears as he'd been wiping off the stew that dribbled onto her chin. "Shush, lass. Whatever the source of that sorrow, put it aside for now. We'll have time enough to talk it out. Right now you need to finish this stew." He picked up the bowl and gave her an encouraging smile.

Concentrating on eating took her mind off of everything else. He swirled the bread around in the nearly empty bowl to sop up the last of the stew and gave it to her. She held his hand with her own to properly eat the bread. It felt a little presumptuous, a little intimate, but she looked up into his eyes and he only smiled his encouragement.

"That did you a world of good." He wiped the last bit of stew off the corner of her mouth and noted her cheeks weren't so pale. "How do you feel?" He pushed a lock of her fair hair behind her ear.

"Better. I could drink more water." She did feel stronger, strong enough to shift herself on the bed a little. She took the water skin from him and drank on her own this time.

"I should look at your shoulder and change the dressing. Enthir did what he could, but you've got some healing to do yet." He looked sheepish and smiled apologetically. "The shirt has to come off. May I?" His hands hovered over the buttons.

Nessa nodded, her cheeks warming. She felt like such a baby.

Brynjolf unbuttoned each button and pulled her shirt off. She was wearing her breast band, but the wound was completely accessible. "I think if you lie on your belly, that'll make it easier." He helped her turn over. The wound had soaked the bandage and he cleaned it with a potion Enthir left him, and bound it again. Long healed now, he wondered about the other scars on her back and where she'd gotten them. Every time he'd dressed her wound while she was unconscious he'd traced a particularly vicious one. His curiosity would have to wait, she needed rest.

Once the wound was bound he helped her turn again. "Tomorrow you'll be better, lass. I'll be back to wake you later for another healing potion. Are you comfortable?" He pulled the covers over her chest.

"I'm all right." She snuggled down into the bed.

"Ah, we forgot your shirt. Do you want it back on? Will you be warm enough without it?"

"I'm warm enough." Her eyes were drooping and Brynjolf was going out of focus. Eating and moving around had taken a lot of her energy. "I'm sorry to be…"

"Shush now. None of that now. Get some sleep, lass." He had a nearly overwhelming urge to bend over and kiss her cheek, but instead he went out of the room, leaving the door open so he could hear her.

_~o~o~o~_

The sun shining through a rusted grate illuminated a bit of the old forgotten thieves' guild. It woke Brynjolf and he was greeted by the sight of water dripping down walls, a few rats scurrying here and there, and a colorful assortment of molds and algae decorating the fetid walls. At least Nessa's room was relatively clean.

He listened for a few minutes before rising. Her room was perfectly silent. _Thank the Divines_. Yesterday morning he'd woken to her painfully labored breathing. Enthir might not be much of a healer, but he had saved her life.

Muscles protested after a night of lying in his uncomfortable bed. He groaned a little as he rose. "I'm sounding as creaky as Mercer," he said to himself. He brought another bottle of healing potion to Nessa and sat on the side of her bed. He watched her a moment before waking her. There was pink in her cheeks again and her skin had lost that waxy look she'd had from blood loss and fever.

"Wake up, lass," he whispered softly.

Her eyes opened slowly, looking hazy and unfocused for a moment, and then she looked up at him and smiled. "Brynjolf?"

"You know where you are today?" He returned her smile, wishing for a bit more light to see the blue of her eyes.

"Old thieves' guild under Solitude." She looked at his hand and grimaced. "Another potion?"

Grinning widely, he pulled the cork off and handed it to her. "Drink it down, girl. It's good for you."

"Enthir's potions taste like rat piss. Mine taste like berries." She sat up and took the bottle and swallowed it right down, not wanting to linger over it. Her face scrunched up and she stuck her tongue out.

Brynjolf took the bottle from her and chuckled. "You must be feeling better. You didn't complain yesterday."

Chuckling at his observation, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Being babied yesterday had been embarrassing enough; she wasn't going to be a burden on him any longer. Divines only knew what he'd had to do when she was out of her head with fever. She'd get out of this damn bed or die trying.

"Don't rush this, Nessa. I don't want you to have a relapse. Enthir would take it hard." He put out an arm and helped her to her feet.

"Lying about in bed isn't good either," she commented. She carefully picked her way to the doorway, not quite trusting her balance, or the broken tiles on the floor. Once she got to the doorway she leaned on it and looked out onto the large room that must've been the common room for the old thieves' guild. There was a pool of water, bigger than a puddle, but smaller than a pond, in the middle of it, created by leaks from the surrounding waterways. "I never thought I'd say it, but this makes the Ratway look downright homey."

"This has been abandoned for a lot longer than I've been a thief. It was once a thriving guild. Aren't many people that know this place exists. I only found it by accident once. Had a bit of bad luck and hid in the sewers, got lost and found a secret door. That's when I discovered this hidden paradise." He chuckled as he gestured at the decaying room.

"I suppose it is a paradise when you're looking to hide," Nessa said.

"So it is." He pulled a chair up for her to sit in. "Have a seat, lass. You can watch the rats at play and I'll change your dressing again." _And finally get answers to my questions, _he left unsaid.

Easing herself gently into the chair, sitting sideways so he could have access to her shoulder, she moaned only a little. Everything hurt. Muscles were tight from being immobile for so long. Her sprained ankle throbbed and the shoulder did too, but not as much as she thought it might.

Unwrapping her wound, he made a pleased sound. "It's looking much better, Nessa. It might leave an impressive scar though." He gathered up a healing potion and more bandages. Dousing one of the clean bandages with the potion, he pressed it over the healing wound. "Am I hurting you?"

His touch was gentle, but in truth it did hurt. "No. It's fine," she lied.

Feeling the tensing of her muscles, he knew she wasn't telling the truth. He finished bandaging her shoulder and decided to start his questioning with the other scars on her back. "This will leave a scar, I'm afraid. Maybe not so bad as these." His finger traced one of the long scars on her back. "I've seen thieves whipped on the pillory that didn't end up with scars this deep."

"Were they children?"

His finger stopped in the path he was tracing. The bitterness in her voice was clear. It all clicked into place for him. "Ah! You were an orphan?"

She turned around to face him. Her eyes were dark in the dim light of the hideout. "I saw the same scars on Aventus' back. Why, after so many years… why hadn't anyone ever stopped her?" Her brows pulled together as she remembered. "When I saw those fresh scars, Brynjolf, I felt it like it was yesterday. I had to stop her. My friends… the ones who just disappeared after a truly terrible beating…." She closed her eyes, squeezing them against terrible memories. "They were _adopted_. That's what Grelod told us." Her face twisted with hatred. "None of the little ones were adopted, Brynjolf! There would be fresh patch of turned earth in the garden after each _adoption._"

Not believing his ears, Brynjolf listened in horror and shame. Had he known, he would have strangled the old hagraven himself. "How'd you get away, lass?"

"Eventually, I was old enough and big enough that she was afraid to touch me. That's the only way we got away. Then she let someone adopt me. I really think she sold me, though. I was _adopted_ into a big family, but I was really an unpaid servant."

"That's called slavery, Ness," he said with heat. "I don't fault you for killing her. I would have done it myself, if I'd known." He slammed the wall with his open palm. "Why didn't we know? We're thieves. It's our business to know what goes on in Riften."

Nessa shrugged. "I think those who knew were too frightened to speak up and maybe no one really wanted to believe it." She looked down at her hands, remember the way she'd twisted the garrote around the woman's crepey neck. "I killed her."

Stooping down next to her chair, Brynjolf took her hands into his own and made eye contact with her. "I know you did, lass. I found Aventus. I gave him the toy soldier."

A sharp gasp of surprise escaped Nessa. "Why? I mean… thank you. I wanted him to have it. I didn't know I wouldn't be able to give it to him."

Dropping her hands, Brynjolf stood and ran a hand through his hair. "We thought you were dead, lass. I wasn't entirely sure until Delvin told me he spoke to Astrid and she confirmed it. Why couldn't you have told us? Why the lies?"

With a heart full of regret and eyes full with apology, she said: "I broke the rules, Byrnjolf. I killed someone. You told me…."

He stared at her, horror growing on his face. "No. That's not what I meant, Nessa. You weren't to kill unnecessarily on the job. It didn't mean you couldn't kill—well, not that we want people going around killing but—there were circumstances in play here, lass. Anyone could see that."

Closing her eyes for a moment, she remembered how Mercer had taken an instant dislike to her. "Are you sure Guildmaster Frey would agree with you on that?"

That comment stopped him. Of course Frey would have thrown her out of the guild on the slightest pretense, he'd never liked her. Brynjolf had no clue why. It was just one of those things. Maybe Frey envied her somehow. Perhaps she reminded him of someone, a lost love, a sister… someone that made him feel vulnerable. A guy like Frey hates feeling vulnerable. "Mercer didn't need to know, lass. He doesn't know half of what goes on in the guild. I'm not sure he even cares anymore."

"Well, the Dark Brotherhood took me. I interfered in their business. I didn't even know they were a real thing. I figured they were just stories Grelod told to scare us." She laughed bitterly. "There's some irony there."

"What happened when they took you, Nessa?"

This was harder to talk about. Maybe she shouldn't tell him. Her eyes dropped back to her hands again and she was silent for a moment, considering. "They told me I had to kill again, to pay back what I'd stolen from them. I don't think I would've lived if I hadn't done it, so I did. I killed a man. That proved to her I would follow orders."

"Her?"

"The guild leader, Astrid."

Something in the way she said it, her hesitancy, the sorrow in her voice, tipped Brynjolf off to an emotionally loaded topic. "Do you want to talk about her, Nessa?" He was curious, but she'd been through enough for the time being.

Holding her breath, she considered for a few moments. Then she began to breathe again. "No." She looked intently at Brynjolf. "I didn't want to leave the thieves' guild, but I couldn't go back, or so I thought. I had nowhere else to go so… I took up her invitation to join the guild."

"I see." He rubbed his hand against his cheeks where three days of scruff had accumulated. "Are you happy there?"

She stood up abruptly, forgetting how weak she was and nearly lost her balance. "Oh!" She grabbed Brynjolf's shoulders and he steadied her. He didn't let go when she regained her balance and neither did she. "I could really use a bath and some clean clothing. I don't suppose this place has those amenities?"

Noticing the sudden subject change, Brynjolf knew he'd strayed into sensitive territory again. It was all right. It might take time to pry the details from her, but he could do it. "Maybe we're pushing too fast, lass. You're still unsteady on your feet."

She dropped her hands and found her balance was fine. "I was just a little lightheaded, is all."

"All right. Let's get clear of this place. I don't think anyone but me really saw you. That mask hid your identity. I'll get you some clean clothes and we'll get out of here tonight if you're feeling good enough to travel a little ways." He helped her back to the bed and got her settled in again. "Rest today, Ness."

He pulled the blankets up around her shoulders and smiled at her. The smile she returned was layered in pain, physical and emotional, humiliation, and shame. That ripped the little hole in his heart larger. She hadn't answered his question, but that had been all the answer he needed. He kissed her on the forehead to reassure her.

His tender gestures, his kindness, his patience with her made the tears prickle at the back of her eyes again. "Why…," she nearly choked on the words, "Why are you bothering, Brynjolf?"

"What happened to you is my fault, lass. I might've done something to stop it from happening. Up until your guild leader—Astrid?—told us you were dead I carried around one of the ribbons you used to wear. I should have taken you away, hidden you. Maybe Delvin could've called in a favor… I don't know. I didn't do enough." A pained look swept over his face. "I didn't do anything, Ness."

The confession stunned her. He felt he should have protected her? That he had even cared enough to carry around a reminder of her… she had no idea. They looked at each other, self-recrimination in both of their eyes and suddenly she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, her voice hoarse with emotion. "It wasn't your job to look after me, Bryn. I'm the one that messed up, not you."

Squeezing her gently, she could feel him shaking his head. "No, lass. Don't blame yourself." He pulled away from her and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "I've missed you. I thought you were gone. When I saw you, I knew I'd been given another chance to make it right." Her eyes began to shine with tears again and her lip trembled. "And… I've got you crying again." He wiped away the tear that ran down her cheek. "I've got to stop doing that."

"I'm sorry. It's just… unexpected." She felt a strong urge to kiss him, her eyes dropped to his mouth for a brief moment, but then she thought of Arnbjorn and Astrid. She still loved them both; it would feel too much like a betrayal. She unwound her arms from around his neck. "I think maybe I'm overly tired." She managed a half-smile and blinked away the tears.

"Of course. You rest up. We'll get out of here tonight, eh?" He sat a moment longer looking at the girl. She was still shaken from nearly dying, confused, vulnerable. Ordinarily, it'd be an opportune time to take advantage of the situation. A bloody knight in shining armor, that's what he was. It'd be a minute's work to get her out of her small clothes… but he stopped short of kissing her. Strong. He wanted her strong, not dependent, not grateful. If he kissed her, how would he know whether or not she kissed him out of gratitude or for other reasons?

He stood up, feeling confused. He'd never rejected a woman's advances that were born out of gratitude. _What is wrong with me? _"Sleep tight, Ness. I'll be back this evening."

Snuggling into the bed, she nodded at the thief. "I'll see you tonight, Bryn." She closed her eyes and only her exhaustion settled the thoughts swirling around in her mind. Sleep claimed her quickly.

There was no such easy escape for Brynjolf. His thoughts hounded him throughout Solitude as he went about town procuring clothes for Nessa. He'd always liked the girl—_woman_, he corrected himself—but he'd thought of her as a younger sister, his protégé, someone to train to be real rainmaker for the guild. The beginning had been promising. She was as stealthy as a sabre cat.

You wouldn't think it to look at her. She was more like the stealth of spring, like the way the mountain crocuses peeked through the melting ice, or the stealth that pushed the pink or white blossoms through the hard bark. Then, when you had no idea, suddenly the sky was that kind of blue that you hadn't seen for what seems like a lifetime. And those trees that looked dead the last time you bothered to look, they were outlined in pink, and the steady drip, drip, drip of melting ice becoming the quiet murmur of a rivulet—that's the only stealth you'd expect of Nessa if you looked at her.

_You've lost your mind. _He chided himself for the ridiculous thoughts. The Dark Brotherhood had obviously seen exactly what he'd seen. A useful set of skills wrapped in an unusual package. He cut off that line of distracting thought and went about his business. The shopkeepers were, as usual, talkative and eager to discuss the latest events and share all the rumors about the assassination. There had been a crackdown on Argonians as the assassin was identified as one of the lizard people. There was also a rumor of a second assassin, but most of the witnesses had only seen the Argonian. The details of the second assassin were very sketchy. Some said it was an Altmer, others a thin Nord. No one seemed to make the claim it was a woman. That was all to the good. No one would think anything of it when he passed through the gate with a drunken woman leaning on him this evening.

He considered a red tavern girl's dress and almost bought it on impulse. He could picture it against her pale skin—skin that would be in ample evidence judging by the cut of the neckline. Pity it wasn't practical. The cut would show too much of her wounded shoulder. He sighed and settled on a plainer dress and a cap that would cover her hair. It wouldn't do to attract any undue attention, and he wasn't likely the only one to notice Nessa in a red tavern girl's dress.

At sunset he returned to the decaying thieves' guild under Solitude. Nessa stirred as he entered her room and blinked at him sleepily. "Brynjolf?"

"I'm here lass. I've brought you some clothes." He laid the clothes on the end of the bed. "Nothing fancy, we don't want to attract attention."

Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she sat up and then stood for the second time that day. She did feel better this time. She slipped the dress on over her leather leggings she still wore. She tried to put the hat on her head but winced with pain when she tried to lift her arm above her shoulder.

"I'll do it." Brynjolf took the hood from her. "Your braids are mostly undone. Maybe I should take them out?"

She nodded. Brynjolf gently unwound the braids and combed her hair with his fingers. It felt nice having someone stroke her hair. She closed her eyes and relaxed. He put the cap on her and tied it behind her head. It was the sort that women wore to keep their hair out of their work or cover dirty, unwashed hair.

He helped her put her boots on and then stepped back to admire his work. Nessa looked like a pretty young housewife. There was certainly nothing about her that suggested assassin. The only thing that didn't quite work were the boots she wore under the dress. "I didn't think of shoes, lass. Well, perhaps no one will notice."

"Hopefully my horse will still be there. I also left a pack of belongings outside Solitude we can pick up." She looked around the room. "I don't suppose my bow made it." She looked at Brynjolf hoping that her favorite bow had survived her panicked escape.

"Sorry lass, you must have dropped along the way. You did have a dagger though." He dug through his own pack and handed it to her.

She took it from him and strapped it to her leg. "I probably can't even use it yet, but I feel better with it." Pausing a moment she considered the purpose she'd nearly utilized it for, to kill herself. "Did you happen to find a bottle?"

A second rummaging through his pack and he pulled out the bottle. "Sleeping draught is what Enthir said. Were you planning on poisoning the bride?" He held it out for her.

"No. That was meant for me. If I failed to get away I was going to drink it." She reached out to take it but he pulled it away.

"By Mara, girl! What on earth for? Wouldn't your benighted guild spring you out of prison? They'd just leave you to rot?" He voice had heat as he looked at the girl. "We'd never let one of our own sit in jail."

Sighing, she crossed her arms. "Do you really think they would've just locked me up and tell me I'd been a very naughty girl? Sweet divines, Brynjolf, they'd most likely torture me to find out who hired me and where the Dark Brotherhood hideout is. Give me the potion."

Narrowing his eyes, Brynjolf handed her the potion. "This job isn't any good for you, Ness. It damn near got you killed. Next time you might not be so lucky."

She frowned at the thief. This line of conversation needed to end. "It is what it is. How do we get out of here?"

He knew "shut up" when he heard it, even if those exact words weren't uttered. "This way."

Brynjolf led her out of the old thieves' guild. It let them out in an inconspicuous place in the graveyard, not entirely dissimilar to the thieves' guild in Riften. He had to help her up a ladder. Climbing out was a painful proposition and impossible to do with just one arm. Her sprained ankle was shrieking with pain by the time they got outside.

"Here," he said, handing her a bottle of mead. "Drink that up for the pain. Smelling like alcohol will make our cover story a little more believable too." He opened a bottle for himself and started drinking.

"Cover story?" She took a long drink of the mead. It tasted good, she had to admit.

"We're a couple of drunks leaning on one another."

They drank down their meads and it wasn't entirely an act for Nessa. It took more than one mead ordinarily, she was a Nord after all, but she hadn't eaten much in several days so the drink hit her harder than she expected. She clutched the empty bottle in one hand and let Brynjolf support her as they staggered to the front gate. Feeling tipsy, she looked up into his face and smiled blearily. "I missed the thieves' guild you know. Rune… Vipir… Delvin… Okay, maybe not Vex, she was a bit mean."

Hitching her closer, his arm wrapped tightly around help her walk, he looked down at her. "There seems to be a name missing from that list."

"Well, the other ones, I missed them too." She smiled mischievously at him. "And you, I missed you." The drink seemed to have short circuited her better judgment. "I always liked your voice," she murmured. "So… reassuring and calm. Even when things were going to shit, you always seemed un…un…."

"Unflappable?" He grinned down at her. He'd never seen her talk so freely before.

"Yeah."

They passed the guards at the entrance, hardly even noticing them.

"Anything else?" he prompted her, taking full advantage of her sudden chattiness.

_I love the way you say lass. It makes me feel special. _That one stayed locked away in her heart. "Mavin. I miss Mavin. I miss the way her mouth puckers up like she's just eaten a badly cured pickle."

Chuckling, Brynjolf squeezed her with the arm wrapped around her waist. "I'll have to give Mavin your fond regards, Ness."

They tottered out of Solitude with scarcely anyone noticing them. Chatting and laughing, Nessa guided them to where she'd hidden her pack. It had most of her money, some clean small clothes and other necessities. She'd hidden this when she realized she wouldn't be able to return to the boarding house after the assassination. They hiked outside of town a couple of miles and then Nessa whistled loudly.

"Shadowmere! Here boy!" she called.

The horse seemed to coalesce out of the shadows, his carbuncle eyes visible before the rest of it appeared. He trotted up to Nessa and bumped his nose against the side of her face.

Brynjolf took a step backwards when he saw the horse. "Sweet Divines, Ness. What manner of horse is that? That thing looks like it swum up from the depths of Oblivion."

"Aw, don't listen to him, Shadowmere. He doesn't know what a sweet, good horse you are, boy." Nessa reached up and scratched the horse between the ears.

Admittedly, the horse seemed to like the girl. He nuzzled her and blew on her, greeting her like one horse greets another. "Will he bite?" Brynjolf asked.

"Shadowmere? Never. He's just a big black sweetie. Aren't you Mere-mere?" She planted a kiss on the horse's snout and his head bounced up and down. "See! He's smart too. Come on Brynjolf, he won't hurt you."

Cautiously, the thief stepped forward and slowly extended his hand. The nuzzling, kissing display ended abruptly and the devil horse's eyes grew wide. His jaws snapped at the air, just missing the end of Brynjolf's fingers by a fraction.

"Bloody Arkay!" he swore and jumped backward, nearly falling on his rump. "Sweet, my ass, Ness. Your horse wants to eat me."

"Shadowmere!" Nessa called his name sharply and the horse turned to her, his ears swiveling forward making him look contrite. "Don't be nasty to Brynjolf. He saved my life and he's a friend." She stood, weight mostly on her good leg, and put her hands on her hips. "Apologize to him."

"I'm sorry, horse. I didn't mean what I said about the depths of Oblivion."

Rolling her eyes, Nessa turned to Byrnjolf. "Not you. The horse."

Looking remorseful the horse turned to Brynjolf and snorted softly. He pawed the ground several times then turned back to his mistress and nuzzled her again.

"All right. I think we're all okay now," Nessa said.

"Easy for you to say." Despite his misgivings, Brynjolf approached the horse again and this time the horse didn't react. "All right, big fella. A truce, eh?" He put a hand on the horse and it continued to behave. "I guess we're okay."

Brynjolf helped Nessa mount the horse and then he got up behind her and took the reins. "There's an inn a couple of hours ride from here. Think you can ride that long, lass?"

She nodded. The mead was wearing off and the pain was returning, but it wasn't anything she couldn't bear, especially with Brynjolf against her back and his arms almost around her, guiding Shadowmere. She took a long breath and relaxed as Solitude fell away behind them.

_~o~o~o~_

"Let's take a look at that shoulder before you go to bed," Brynjolf told her after they secured a room at the inn, the last one. It had two beds. Just as well, after three hours of having Nessa's body pressed against his, he wasn't sure how gentlemanly he could be, even as tired as he was. Nessa was in even worse shape. She fallen asleep on the horse and he'd had to hold her close to keep her from falling off. As much as she'd been complaining about wanting a hot bath, there was no way she had the energy for it this night.

Her only response was a muffled grumble as she buried her face in her pillow as she collapsed onto the bed, still fully dressed.

"Come on now, lass." He helped her sit up and unbuttoned her dress. She stood and the dress fell to her feet, leaving her in her leather leggings, boots, and breast band. "All right, back on the bed."

She obeyed, her mind and body feeling like they were encased in lead. His gentle hands removed the old dressing, poured healing potion into the wound and rebound it. "It's looking much better. Still hurts?"

"Mmmm," she mumbled. Her eyes were closed and her breath was already sounding deep and regular.

"All right then, lass." He untied her cap and let her hair down, then he took her boots off, and covered her in a fur. He stared at her a moment, completely sure she was asleep, kissed her cheek gently, and spoke in a low voice. "Tomorrow, my Nessa. Tomorrow, when you're rested up and you've had that long soak in a tub, you and I are going to have a long, difficult talk. So sleep well, lass."

He got himself ready for bed and took the bed two arms lengths away from her. It felt like the distance was far vaster than that. "G'night, lass."

**The Void**

"My lady," Shadowmere bowed low before his mistress, the Night Mother.

"Why hello, my faithful steed." She looked pleased with her Daedroth friend. "What is our lovely new Listener up to?"

"The thieves have found her. She travels with one now. I think he intends to steal her away from you. I could smell it, the attraction they have for one another. I'll never get the stink of that thief's pheromones out of my nostrils. Pah! I tried to bite him, but she commanded me not to." He tossed his head like a horse and it left his hair in disarray. He reached up and vaingloriously smoothed it down.

"Really!" The Night Mother shot to her feet, the tranquility of her twilight garden was disturbed by her anger. "It's Nocturnal, I warrant. If that sneaky bitch thinks she can steal my Listener, she's got another think coming." She paced back and forth, her fury disrupting the twinkling of the lightning bugs. Their perfectly synchronized flashing became chaotic and random. The impeccably still lake began to ripple and a tree lost a leaf. Such was the effect of the Night Mother's temper in her perfectly ordered world.

"Bring me my scrying bowl!" she commanded, clapping her hands to summon an attendant. A servant ran to do her biding, bringing a silver bowl filled with water from the lake. She drew a calming breath, waiting until the water stilled and the lightning bugs resumed their coordinated blinking.

"Noctural, I call upon you. Bitch of the night, show your face!" she called forth her nemesis.

The water in the bowl turned to smoke and formed a replica of the Night Mistress. "Who calls forth the Mistress of Shadows, the Empress of Murk, the Daughter of Twilight, the…."

"Oh, leave off, you murky tart. Are you trying to steal my Listener? She's mine. I spoke to her first." The Night Mother stood, hands on hips and scowled at the Daedroth dressed in the slutty gown. That hellion had no shame.

The only reaction from Nocturnal was a barely perceptible arching of one perfect eyebrow. "I saw her first, as if I even have to answer to Sithis' doxy."

"So you admit to trying to steal her?" Night Mother shot back.

"Why not? She is mine. I claimed her long before you did." Nocturnal stroked one of the crows roosting on her shoulders.

Night Mother laughed heartily. "Oh right… you have a habit of losing your things, don't you? How many times has that skeleton key of yours wandered off?"

"That has nothing to do with this!" Nocturnal snapped, finally losing her temper. The Night Mother wasn't even a Daedra, she was some dead mistress of Sithis'. She had no business demanding anything of her.

"Oh it does. What's that saying… finders keepers, losers weepers! You've lost the Dragonborn and I've found her. She's mine, so back off!" With that the Night Mother threw the water out of the bowl, effectively ending the communication.

She turned to Shadowmere and regarded him for a moment. "Hopefully that'll be the end of that. She's on notice now."

"I'm sure she's quaking in her boots, my lady," Shadowmere said, voice dripping with irony.

"Get back to Tamriel," she ordered her horse, giving him a withering look. The Daedroth departed with a bow, leaving her to her thoughts. Choosing this Listener had been a gamble, but such a fine acquisition. She'd finally be afforded respect amongst the residents of Oblivion.

The girl couldn't leave the assassins, not without risking her sanity. The Night Mother might not be able to speak to her when she was far away from her corpse, but she could send nightmares after her, haunting messages that would get her point across well enough. She was Dragonborn, true, but still mortal and she needed sleep like every other human.

There was no need to panic. She still remembered the urges of her fleshy body. No need to deny the girl, just so long as she returned to the Sanctuary to perform her duty. She sat down on a moss covered bench in her pocket of the Void and contemplated the impeccably still lake. All things were falling into order; this was merely a temporary inconvenience.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Such a long chapter! It certainly didn't go as I planned, but these characters have minds of their own sometimes. I hope you like it. Please let me know, I love hearing from readers._

_Thanks to TS Hills, Guest, Jacob shives, Elealyon, Biff McLaughlin, Zevgirl, Heiwako, Inuyashagirl2015, Janele, Nightlain for your reviews. _

_Guest – sorry, you don't care for my story. Wish I could read "Sons of Ksyrim" but it appears to be gone. _


	27. Chapter 27

_**Notes: **__Thanks so much for the feedback! In particular: eep246( who read the whole thing in a day!); DAloverGirl (Sorry, not planning any crossovers. My cup overfloweth with projects already.);_ _Myrielle (whose own work is awesome, read it!); TheOtherLachance (another great author); Jacob shives(Yes, the scrying bowl, a staple of interdimensional communications!); Inuyashagirl2015 (Sorry about all the confliction – what a great word!); Biff McLaughlin (another awesome writer); Zevgirl (fabulous writer as well); x_Janelle_x (Those darn dots just don't work in , why is that?); Heiwako (an author whose Diana Dragonborn and Cicero have inspired many, many artists because they're damn good!); Nightlain (Yes, the Night Mother is being a little selfish); TS Hills (Thanks so very much!)_

_I started working on a chapter on another story I'm working on and got seriously stuck, so I returned to this story. Then… you know… life happened. Got busy. Had a few nights where I couldn't write at all due to time constraints. That seemed to muzzle the muse and it took another few nights to really get her blabbering to me again. _

_~o~o~o~o~_

Stone grinding against stone created the familiar rumbling sound of a brother returned. Or a sister. Arnbjorn, seated at the whetstone, stopped his work, trying to determine whose footsteps it might be coming down that long hallway. He glanced to see if anyone was watching, but he was alone in the common room. No one could see the anticipation or worry that crossed his face as the footsteps neared.

It was Veezara, alone. "I'm back, my brother." He looked around the hall, trying to spot the sister he'd been sent to help. "Is Nessa back yet?"

"No." Arnbjorn put the axe down. "Did she get away?" It alarmed him that Veezara had returned without her.

"I do not know, my brother. I created a distraction and most of the guards came after me, but I know some followed her. I couldn't see what path she chose."

The Nord paced a little. "She had Shadowmere. She should have beaten you back. Did you hear anything? Any rumors?"

Shaking his head, the Argonian looked apologetic. "I did not dare to stay around. The guards had a good look at me. I'm sure they were questioning any Argonian they didn't know. I am sorry, but staying around Solitude would have been unhealthy."

Veezara tilted his head, wondering about Arnbjorn and why he didn't ask if the contract had been fulfilled successfully. "The assassination was well done. An arrow to the throat. It made a statement."

"Oh yes, of course." Arnbjorn turned to walk away, but recalled his manners. "Thank you for taking this on, Veezara. I appreciate it."

"It was my pleasure."

He picked up his axe and looked at it closely, but only saw the vision his mind fabricated: Nessa locked in a prison, being tortured for information, or already dead. But Shadowmere hadn't returned. He wouldn't, not if she still lived. He held onto that slender hope.

_~o~o~o~_

It was late when Brynjolf woke. He glanced at Nessa's bed and saw only a bit of pale hair, tip of a nose, eyes, and forehead peeking out from under the furs. She looked very deeply asleep.

Brynjolf undressed quietly and bathed while she slept. When he finished, he peeked at her again. She was still deeply asleep. Well, that was fine. He could buy some more healing potions for her; perhaps something for her stamina would do her good. He left her and found his way to the general store.

The sun had been up for many hours when it finally angled through the curtains and a strong beam fell directly into Nessa's eyes. She rolled onto her back with a groan, her arm flopping out from under the furs covered her eyes. Little by little awareness came to her.

The first thing she noticed was that rolling onto her back hadn't caused a sharp stab of pain in her shoulder. That was something to be grateful for, she supposed. As her eyes cracked open, she looked around the room wondering where she was. For a long moment she was entirely disoriented and then her memory returned.

"Brynjolf?" She sat up and looked around the room. He wasn't there, but the bed next to hers looked like it had been slept in and his bag was there. No use lying about in bed. She got up and stretched, feeling the tug on her wounded shoulder. It hurt, but it was bearable. The sore ankle was better too, but that sort of wound could take a long time to heal.

Seeing the tub in the corner of the room, she smiled. There were a pair of sluices and she bet hot water came out of one of them. Rummaging through her pack, she found her blue dress was still clean, even if it was terribly wrinkled. She laid it in the bathing area, along with some towels. There was a bar of dragon's breath scented soap in her pack too, so she took that out.

Pulling the drape closed on the bathing area, she filled the tub and undressed. One thing she could thank the Imperium for was making boilers and hot running water popular. At the moment it almost made up for them nearly slicing her head off... almost.

Moaning gratefully, she carefully got into tub, dipping in a toe, then a foot, then an ankle. "Hot, hot, hot!" She carefully sat down and watched her skin grow red with the heat, but it wasn't long before the water grew murky with the days of sweat, blood, sickness, and dirt she'd acquired. Disgusted by the cloudy water she emptied the tub and refilled it after her first scrubbing. Then she scrubbed herself again, this time washing her hair as well. The scent of dragon's breath filled the room and relaxed her. She let her mind wander as she basked in the hot water.

Thinking back over the days since she'd woken up in the old thieves' guild under Solitude, she reflected on all that had happened. Brynjolf had saved her, taken care of her, done everything he could do to see her restored to health. Why had he cared? He'd been disappointed that she was an assassin now, but he didn't blame her. She remembered how he'd fed her, wiped away her tears when she'd cried from humiliation, brought her a healer, and how she'd very nearly kissed him. Then she thought about the hours it took to get to the inn, his arm looped loosely around her waist while they rode. She remembered him taking the reins when she'd begun to get drowsy. Leaning back against him, he'd held her more tightly, securing her to him. She had felt so safe she had fallen asleep. When had they gotten to the inn? She didn't remember that, or going to bed. Warmth suffused her cheeks and that wasn't from the bath water.

When she'd been at the thieves' guild, she'd been a child, or so it seemed now. Certainly the events of the last six months had changed her. She barely recognized herself as she was back then. Life kept tumbling her from one thing to the next. When had she ever made a decision for herself? Going over her life, she came to the startling realization that she'd only really made two significant choices in her life. She'd chosen to leave that so-called adopted family that had practically enslaved her. The other choice was to kill Grelod. Everything else had been someone else's idea. No one had asked her what she wanted, they just carried her along in whatever plans they had made, just like she'd been swept up in that ambush and nearly executed.

She was sick of being buffeted about by the whim of gods and men. Even her affair with Astrid hadn't been her idea. She'd been caught up in Astrid's dance, seduced and enthralled. Arnbjorn hadn't been her idea either. Not that she was complaining. But if she hadn't been such a child perhaps she could've seen where this would inevitably lead.

"This has to stop," she muttered to herself. _I've got to take more control over my life._ But how? Even now she found herself given a role in life she hadn't asked for: The Listener. Maybe the best place to start was with the truth. She slid down the bathtub, internally flinching away from the truths she needed to acknowledge.

_Astrid no longer loves me. She is angry with me for being the Listener. All my pleading and trying to reason with her isn't going to change it._

Saying that to herself finally made the truth sink home. It was like pulling an arrow out. It hurts. You bleed. You think you're going to die, but you get better eventually. Right now… she was still bleeding.

There was more, but this one hurt even more.

_Arnbjorn is Astrid's. They have each other. They always have. I haven't changed that between them. I can't have either of them._

Another arrow drawn. Another painful truth acknowledged. It might be healthier to acknowledge the truth, but it hurt like hell. She wanted to sink down into the water and cry. _No!_ _I'm not a child._

After the heat went out of the water, she finally got out of the tub. She dried off, put on the wrinkled blue dress, and sat in front of the fire to dry her hair. Combing through it, she mused on her painful self-analysis.

_~o~o~o~o~_

Brynjolf regretfully handed over most of the remainder of his money to purchase healing potions for Nessa. He might need to stop in a hold on the way back to Riften to pick a few pockets. Hopefully, Nessa would agree to return with him, and they could work out something together. With her looks all she'd have to do is smile sweetly and purses would fly open. She just needed a little training. He imagined them traveling from hold to hold, perhaps even leaving Skyrim, and earning a good living selling his nostrums and lightening a few purses along the way.

It'd be an adventurous life for the lass, and not nearly as dangerous as this assassination business. He even stared out over the hills for a moment, lost in his daydream. Camping under the stars, the red light of the moon, Masser, illuminating them as…

"Sir?" The apothecary interrupted his reverie.

"Oh, right." He took the potions and carefully packed them into his bag.

It was a pretty sight he returned to. The lass sitting by the fire, dressed in a rumpled blue dress, her hair unbraided for once, damp and drying to a rich shade like golden wheat, or flax. It'd been a long time since he'd thought of such things, but for a moment he longed for a life he'd always shunned, a life of simple domesticity with a loving wife and perhaps children. The thought made him chuckle with its ridiculousness.

The low chuckle interrupted Nessa's reverie as she combed through her hair, drying it in front of the fire. She turned to the door, even as she reached for a dagger she wasn't even wearing.

"Easy, lass. You didn't hear me enter?"

"Ah, I was wool-gathering, I suppose." She settled back into the chair and began to partition her hair into sections for braiding.

"You could leave it down."

Eyes darting to his, she considered his suggestion. It was strange to hear a request like that from him. Why should he care how she wore her hair? But she left her hair unbraided.

"How are you feeling today? I got some more potions for you. No letting up until the shoulder is healed." He took a pair of potions from his pack and set them before her. "Enough to last the day at any rate. I can… acquire more tonight. Guild discount, if you follow me. There's also a salve I think might work on your sprained ankle."

She grinned at him, knowing full well how guild discounts worked. But she knew he must be running low on coin. He'd most likely had had to pay her healer, for her clothes, and who knows what else. Feeling guilty about that, she knew she'd make him whole before they parted, whatever it took. She had a very generous sum for her expenses and she'd barely tapped into it.

"I'm feeling much better. The ankle still hurts, but the shoulder is lots better. I can do a little healing on my ankle. I can't reach the wound on my shoulder."

"Have you eaten, Ness?"

She shook her head and her stomach growled loudly at the mere mention of food. She smiled and he chuckled at the sound. "I could eat."

"Aye, you should. You look much better, but you're a little thin." He left the room again and ordered a generous amount of food.

He returned when the food arrived and they sat together at the little table in their room. He'd ordered roast duck, sweet potatoes, pie, bread and a half dozen bottles of Black-Briar mead. There was no way he had enough money to pay for the meal and the room, but they could skive out without paying the bill. He was too proud to ask her to pay for it.

They ate voraciously and quietly at first then, when their bellies were appeased Brynjolf began to ask her questions, inconsequential ones at first.

"So, lass. Did you know Delvin had been an assassin once?"

She nodded and put down her fork for a moment, taking a long swig of mead. "Yes, Astrid told me he was. He left, I guess."

Brynjolf nodded, taking another bite of duck and chewing thoughtfully. "Yes. I suppose all that murdering got a little old after a while. Pretty dangerous work, I should think."

Poking at a sweet potato, Nessa nodded thoughtfully. "Well, you saw first-hand how dangerous. It isn't always like that though."

"I never would've thought you'd take to that sort of work. Do you… enjoy it?"

She poked at the sweet potato again. It was beginning to look more tortured than eaten. Certainly killing the Imperial in Solitude had been a horrible job. Sleeping with Tullius… she shivered involuntarily when remembering. She hadn't ever really actually enjoyed murdering people, but she also hadn't spent too much time thinking about the people she had killed. Like Nazir had said, once you go down that path your job becomes impossible.

"It's okay." The sweet potato suffered another fatal jab and she gulped down the rest of her mead, not wanting to look him in the face.

She hadn't gained any skill in hiding her tells—the little things she did that gave away her true feelings. Well, that was another thing he'd train her in when she returned.

"You don't care for it, do you? Why don't you leave?" Now he was circling closer, getting a little bolder with his questions.

She sighed in frustration and opened the next bottle of mead. "I can't leave." Maybe once she could have. That time when Arnbjorn had urged her to go and seek a normal life. She'd almost followed his advice. Now it was too late.

"Why not? Are you an indentured servant? Do you have to pay off some sort of debt?"

She shook her head and examined the bottle closely, toying with it. Her eyes focused on it so she wouldn't have to look at him. His questions were like being jabbed with needles. "I _can't_ leave." As Cicero had said, the Black Hand would hunt her down and force her back. She wasn't exactly sure what the Black Hand was—some sort of disembodied extremity, blackened by decay. It might come throttle her in the middle of the night until she relented and returned. The image was horrifying and haunted her at times.

Brynjolf, impatient with her short replies and lack of elaboration, took the bottle she was fiddling with. She looked up and finally met his eyes. "I thought I was a friend, Ness, someone you could trust. I know you're unhappy, lass. A trouble shared is a trouble halved, or so they say."

Sighing, she frowned and considered what to share. He'd certainly been a friend to her, rescuing her from certain death, nursing her back to health. If there was one person in all Tamriel that had been her friend through words and deeds, it was Brynjolf. Maybe he was right. Telling him her troubles might ease her mind. One corner of her mouth quirked up, just a bit, and she took back her mead.

"All right. I told you how I was recruited into the Brotherhood, but I haven't told you what happened afterwards. The guild master welcomed me _very _warmly, but it was complicated." She smiled at the memory of Astrid's wooing during those early days.

Despite his normal control over his expression, Brynjolf's brows rose in surprise. He smothered his reaction quickly. "Oh? That would be Astrid? Did you and she…?"

Nodding, Nessa continued her story. "I know, it surprised me too. Especially since I found out she was married and her husband was also in the guild."

"Ah, the complication?" he asked.

"Well, one of the complications. The other complication was that Astrid is a vampire and she nearly killed me."

"By the Divines, why'd she do that?" _Vampires! Bad idea, Nessa. _He'd heard stories of people kidnapped and enthralled. Nothing but bad came from vampires. Living as long as they did warped them. Somewhere along the line they stopped being human and humans began to look like food. _Very bad idea, Nessa._

"It was an accident. We were playing a game—it was my idea—and she was tempted by my blood. She couldn't stop." There was a lengthy pause as Nessa stared at the fire, remembering it in all its glorious intensity and sensuality. "Her husband rescued me, but I was enthralled. I couldn't stay away from her and she couldn't stop wanting my blood."

"Stendarr's fiery flatulence, Ness, I see what you mean by complications. Was that the end of it?"

"For a while, but then her husband, Arnbjorn, and I… It was his idea. They'd separated because of what had happened and he thought that if the three of us were together it would solve everything. And it worked for a while. We were happy." She gulped a deep breath of air, feeling the empty pang in her center. "I loved them both."

He'd bet a fat purse, if he had one, someone had gotten jealous. But sweet divines, who was this lucky man, Arnbjorn? "Someone got jealous, lass?"

She bit her lip. Could she speak about the Night Mother to an outsider? Would the Black Hand come for her in the night if she did? No one had said she couldn't. Surely Circero would've warned her. "It was jealousy of a sort, I suppose. The Night Mother spoke to me and I became the Listener."

All the control that Brynjolf had over his facial expressions couldn't hide his surprise this time. "Night Mother... is she real? I thought that was just legend. I know when Maven calls on the Dark Brotherhood she leaves a message in a certain place. She doesn't even bother with that whole Black Sacrament nonsense."

Her eyes closed a moment, reliving that horrible night when her entire world caved in. "She's real. She told me the secret words to tell her Keeper and he confirmed it. Astrid didn't believe me at first, but now she does and she's angry. The Keeper says the Listener should lead the guild and Astrid doesn't like that. I don't want it, Brynjolf. I never sought this. I don't want Astrid's job. She does a fine job. It should've been her."

Nessa clapped her hand over her mouth. "Maybe I've said too much."

"Don't worry, lass. I'll take it to my grave, unless you tell me otherwise."

There he went, calling her lass again in that proprietary way he had. It made her smile, even now when she'd revived all the painful memories of her recent past. "So that is why I can't return to the thieves' guild. Cicero tells me the Black Hand will strangle me in the night if I don't return." She didn't quite remember what Cicero had said, but her imagination had woven it into something fitting.

Brynjolf wrinkled his forehead and looked skeptical. "The Black Hand? I've never heard of that. Are you sure it isn't just a story meant to frighten you?"

Maybe it was. Nessa didn't really know much of the lore of the Dark Brotherhood. Perhaps she should find a book to read. She hadn't been in much of a mood to read about Barenziah lately. She shrugged. "The Night Mother visits me in my dreams, too. She'd never allow me to leave. Cicero says she'd drive me mad."

_Cicero be damned, _Brynjolf thought. This _Keeper_ was keeping Nessa from leaving by scaring her. "Ness, these sound like fairy tales. I think that Keeper is simply trying to keep you from leaving."

"The Night Mother is _not_ a fairy tale, Brynjolf. I've been there in the twilight place where she lives. She drags me there some nights, even when I try to stay awake."

They finished their dinner while Brynjolf pried more details from her. Murder by murder, they spilled out of her, until she reached what she'd done to murder the old commander in Solitude. She just couldn't tell him that she'd slept with a man she hated and feared. She glossed over everything but poisoning him with sleeping draught.

The obfuscation wasn't lost on Brynjolf. Whatever had happened was causing her embarrassment and shame. The smile on her face, when it appeared, was as false as a brass septim. When she laughed over her performance as a bard, it sounded brittle. No, whatever had happened, she wasn't going to tell him. He wouldn't pry. Not this time.

"You can't stay there, Ness." He leaned forward and stared at her intently, capturing her blue eyes with his. "This isn't any good for you. Maybe being a thief isn't an honorable profession, but these assassins will strip away everything that makes you… special." He leaned forward and grabbed her wrist. The fork she was holding clattered to the table top.

She drew in a quick breath, shocked by the force of his insistence. "I told you…"

He dropped her wrist as suddenly as he'd seized it. "I know, lass. But you could try. There must be some way." He snapped his fingers suddenly. "Delvin would know."

She settled back in her chair and regarded him. "I could come back to the guild?" she said skeptically.

Nodding, he noticed the glimmer of hope her eyes. "I'll deal with Mercer, if there's anything to deal with. He doesn't need to know the details. We'll cover your disappearance with a plausible story, easy enough."

Was it that easy? Could she leave the Dark Brotherhood, truly? As uncomfortable as things were between her and Astrid, she was still close to Arnbjorn. They talked sometimes, when Astrid wasn't around. Cicero was a friend, even if he did scare her sometimes, as was Babette. Of course, Veezara she liked very well. But as much as she liked them, she knew Astrid was having a problem with her, and she'd leave just to prove to Astrid she wasn't ambitious.

She nodded slowly as she came to accept that leaving truly would be best, if she even could. "If Delvin knows a way."

Brynjolf settle back into his chair and lifted his mead bottle, a contented smile on his face. "I have faith, lass. We'll get you back where you belong." He saluted her with his bottle and took a long quaff. "I think we should spend a couple of days here. You finish healing up and I can escort you back to wherever it is you live now."

"You can't go there with me, Bryn. It's a secret."

"How do I get a message to you then, about whatever Delvin says?"

Her eyes searched his face for a moment. It wouldn't hurt to say where it was near, would it? Delvin would probably know anyway. "It is close to Falkreath. You could leave a message there for me with the shopkeeper."

It was something, a place to start if nothing else and he'd have another couple of days to convince her to return right away. He settled back in his chair and drank leisurely from the bottle of mead. "All right then. Glad that's settled. Let's take a look at that ankle today."

He got up and went to Nessa's bed. "Make yourself comfortable and take off your shoes," he said as he sat on the side of her bed. She removed her shoes and settled onto the bed, resting her back against the headboard. He thoughtfully put a pair of pillows behind her back to cushion her. The tender gesture wasn't lost on her. Her blue eyes sought out his and they locked gazes for a moment.

Echoes of her morning's musing rang through her thoughts again, pealing like temple bells. _When have I ever decided anything for myself?_ _Am I still being swept along a river current, or am I swimming?_ Brynjolf opened a jar of liniment and a soft herbal fragrance filled her senses. He pushed her dress up, over, and away from the sore ankle. Dipping his fingers into the thick, viscous mixture, he gently rubbed it into the swollen area.

"Am I hurting you, lass?"

She shook her head. Definitely not. The sweet smell of the ointment and the feeling of his warm, gentle hands was not painful at all. She exhaled a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. As her muscles relaxed, he applied more pressure. Rubbing, squeezing, his fingers gently dug into her calf muscles.

She let go of all the tension she'd been holding and sagged back against the pillows, closing her eyes and giving herself over to the pleasing sensation of his hands working their magic against her leg. With her eyes closed, she was flooded with memories of Arnbjorn, the way he'd seduced her, gently at first and then more passionately with the beast in him coming to the forefront later. The memories were arousing her, but stabbed her heart as well. She opened her eyes and fixed them on Brynjolf. His scarred cheek was turned toward her and she had that urge again to trace them with her hand, but instead she sat up.

"Thanks, Brynjolf. I think that did a lot of good. I should go out and get a little air now." She pushed her dress down over her ankle, ending the session abruptly. She didn't trust herself right now.

Looking a little surprised at her unexpected halt to his massage, he grabbed a towel and wiped his hands clean, looking at her as he did so. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were skittering away from his like frightened mice._ Well, this is an interesting development. _Perhaps he wasn't the only one afflicted by such thoughts. Still, after all she'd been through, it wasn't up to him to make the first move.

"Feeling better, then?"

"Much!"

Her reply was bright and cheerful and rang falsely. There was nothing false in Brynjolf's smile. "I'll come with you."

"Good, you can help me carry things." She put her shoes back on and tried to smooth some wrinkles out of her dress. "I need to collect some herbs for potions."

"I bought you some this morning, lass. There's no need."

"There's always a need, Bryn. Can't have too many healing potions. Besides, I've gotten very good at mixing potions since I left. I bet I could even sell them to the alchemist here for a tidy profit." Her growing alchemy skill was a source of pride.

"All right, Ness, but don't overdo it."

They spent the rest of the afternoon gathering herbs and alchemy ingredients. Brynjolf, remembering her flushed cheeks and shyness, made every effort to reproduce the response by letting his fingers lingering on hers, just a little longer than necessary, when she handed him stems of mountain flowers and lavender.

When their arms were full of what Brynjolf teasingly called "weeds", they made their way back to the inn and he offered to help her pound what she needed into a pulp. She stood behind him, carefully directing him, maybe a little closer than was entirely necessary.

Toes on the brink, was how Nessa felt. There was a cliff here. If she jumped, would she fly or plummet? She could stand there until someone pushed her off, or pulled her away from the edge, but that was what she'd always done.

As they worked on the healing potions she stole little glances at him and he met them. At first her eyes slid away back to their work. _Decide._ Her glances grew bolder and she stopped blushing when he caught her eyes and smiled.

He held the bottles while she strained the mixtures into them. Both their fingers were stained red by the time she had corked the last bottle. The heavy scent of green herbs, lavender, and thistle blooms was intoxicating, but it was a red smudge on Brynjolf's face that finally set her feet upon a path of her choosing. That mark mirrored the scar she'd secretly wondered about for so long. Her eyes settled to the mark and finally, _finally_, she reach up to touch it. The movement of her hand was mere inches, but the gesture was that last step off the precipice. It was a decision. Her finger traced the scar as his green eyes locked with hers. "How did it happen?" she asked softly.

He caught her hand with his own and held it against his cheek. "A knife fight I almost lost." Moving in a little closer he pulled her hand to his mouth and softly kissed her wrist over the place where her pulse throbbed.

For a moment they simply stood and stared at one another, and then Nessa closed the remaining distance between them. "I'm glad you won," she whispered with her lips nearly on his.

"Me too, lass." He barely had time to say the words before her lips were on his and her arms were wrapping around him.

There was a chance, perhaps, he'd reject this, but he didn't. Instead his hand came to rest on the back of her neck and the other around her waist. The smell of leather and mead, the bristling brush of his scruffy cheeks, the sound of the pleased hum that escaped him filled her senses even more than the heady scent of the crushed flora.

The kiss went on until he pulled away ever so slightly and ran his hands down her shoulders, looking at her, memorizing the moment. He seared into his memory the way her dilated pupils made her eyes look a darker shade of blue, the way she was looking at him, her chest heaving with deep breaths, and no sign now of the shy girl who wouldn't meet his eyes earlier in the day. His heart inched up his throat thinking how incredibly improbable this was. Well, not seducing a girl, the probability of that was always rather high, but finding this one again. There'd always been a feeling of unfinished business where she'd been concerned, and a lot of regrets.

He'd never been a man to turn down a willing woman, especially one as comely and sweet as this one, but this time he hesitated. There was a question of motivation. The thought that she might be doing this to repay him, or out of gratitude, didn't set well. Or that she was turning to him to forget her broken heart. Then that thought, in turn, bothered him. Who was he to question a woman's motivation? Whatever her motivation, the answer was always a resounding 'yes', until now.

"Lass, you're certain about this?" Sheogarath take him, what a stupid utterance, yet he wanted to know her motivation.

Disappointment grew in her eyes and she tensed under his hands. "You don't… Oh. I'm sorry, Brynjolf." She tried to take a step back, but his hands were still firmly locked onto her shoulders.

"No, not that, Ness. Not at all. It's just that I want to know you're not feeling obligated because of what happened in Solitude." That came out sounding awful. He'd be lucky if she didn't turn on her heel after that.

She let out a held breath and relaxed. For a moment she thought he was going to say he was uninterested. "I am grateful for all you did, but it isn't why."

"That's all I wanted to know, lass." It wasn't all, but it was enough for now. His eyes smiled as he pulled her to him and this time his lips took hers.

Her red-stained hands traveled up his neck, along his jaw and then behind his head and neck. This time no one hesitated. They inched, still locked together in a fevered kiss, toward the bed. The back of her knees hit it and she fell backwards even as she pulled him down with her. His breath blossomed against her neck as he kissed his way down to her collar bones. Larcenous fingers, skilled at removing coin purses without the owner's notice, artfully unbuttoned her dress. Nessa's hands were just as facile dealing with his clothes. His shirt came off just as he peeled her dress down her torso.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen her with so little, but it wasn't the same when she'd been so near death. This time though, with her hair spilling across the pillow, her cheeks glowing pink, and her blue eyes looking at him so intently—this time the sight spurred him on. "Lass," he spoke softly into her ear.

The sound of his voice, the warm puff of air against her ear, his hand skimming along her rib cage and gently cupping a small breast made her gasp. She arched up into his hand. The thief's other hand unfastened her breast band and slid it off her.

His chest was covered with a fine dusting of hair that was as auburn as the hair on his head. It covered a finely sculpted torso, marred only by a few long scars, grown white with age, and one particularly vicious one that looked like it might have been made by and arrow, or knife that had sunk in deeply. Her hand traced it and she looked up into his eyes questioningly. "Same knife fight?"

His laugh rumbled through his chest and she liked the intimate way that chuckle seemed just for her.

"No, Ness. I like to think I don't get hit twice in the same fight. Those are all different stories." He picked up her hand and pinned it against the bed. "Someday I will tell you about them all." Kissing her neck, he brought another sharply indrawn breath from her. "But not today. My mouth has more interesting work than recounting old fights."

She discovered the work his mouth had to do as it teased a nipple then kissed its way down to her navel. He grasped her dress that pooled around her hips and slid it off, taking her smalls with it. Conveniently, her sex was right before his face as he finished disrobing her. The downy hair was a darker shade than that on her head, but every bit as soft. His hand ran across the mound of her sex, and a finger dipped into the folds to find she was already gratifyingly wet.

Nessa raised her head to see a roguish smile cross his face. "You'll tell me if I'm doing this right, won't you, lass?" he said.

She nodded, her eyes wide with anticipation, and lips parted. "I think you'll know."

Then he turned to the task he'd set his mouth. His hand parted her folds and held her open, exposed to him. There was a long moment when she felt more naked, more on exhibit than she'd ever felt as he just looked at her sex. Then his hot breath blossomed against her and his tongue flicked gently against her most sensitive spot.

The building anticipation already had her on edge and she moaned the moment his tongue made contact. Her hands gripped the blankets and then wended into his hair where her grip tightened as she lost herself to what his tongue and mouth were doing to her. When he carefully inserted a finger, then two, she moaned and her hips began to dance.

He answered with a chuckle, and threw an arm over her hips to hold her to the bed as he increased the pace, sucking at her folds like she were a luscious fruit. Her fingers in his hair tightened and the soft mewling sounds told him he was on the right track. Finally she lifted her head, her eyes tried to focus on his face and she gasped his name.

"Brynjolf! Oh Divines!" After that nothing intelligible came out of her mouth as her body clenched and trembled with the intensity of her climax. When she finally came to her senses she realized she had double fistfuls of Brynjolf's hair clenched in her hands, fortunately she hadn't yanked it out of his head.

He climbed up the bed, a pleased grin on his face. "I take it you approve? Either that or you would prefer me bald." He rubbed his head where she'd tugged at his red hair.

She laughed and hid her face against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry." She kissed him softly, tasting herself on his lips. "I'll make it up to you. Feel free to pull my hair."

Sliding down the bed, she unlaced his trousers and pulled them off with two hard tugs. Her breath caught as she looked over the rest of his body. His legs were sculpted as handsomely as his torso and sprinkled with the same red hair. Her tongue flicked out shyly as she tentatively tasted him. His murmur of approval bolstered her and she took him fully into her mouth, sucking and licking him as if he were a penny candy of unusual size.

He wrapped her long pale hair around his hand and lifted it so he could watch what she was doing with mouth. Nessa was apparently not nearly as innocent as she looked. Whatever she'd been up to the last half year with the assassin's guild master and her husband, he could hardly complain about the results.

The sounds, sensations, and sight of what she was doing nearly undid him. "Up here, Ness." He gave a gentle tug on her hair and then reached down and pulled her up to him, kissing her as he did so. Spreading her legs with his knees, his eyes riveted hers, but they slid shut as he hilted himself in her. "Ah, lass," he whispered directly into her ear. "This feels so right." He moved slowly, his hips swirling against hers.

The words nearly undid her. It was what had just been flickering through her mind. "Gods, Bryn. Just fuck me." She didn't want to think of how right it feels, because it wasn't going to last. Her fingernails scraped down his sides and she thrust up under him, begging him with her body for more.

Brynjolf was completely insensible to the pain the comment caused, but he did respond to her urging. His thrusts became hard and rhythmic, igniting a fire storm of sensations within her core. Her hand wound into his long, fiery hair and another hand skimmed down his back to grip his ass as she wrapped her long legs around him firmly.

A few more wild thrusts and she was undone for a second time. She cried out his name as muscles tightened, fingers clutched, and her body was seized with tremors.

"Lass!" A pair of uneven thrusts and he raised himself up, staring intently at her while he reached his own crisis. "Oh, Ness," he said, gritting his teeth against the intensity of his own release. A drop of sweat rolled down his nose and dropped onto her chest, mingling with her own perspiration. He held her tightly, feeling her heart galloping beneath his own. His lips sought out hers and this time the kiss was a gentle meeting of lips, the urgency gone now.

They stared at one another for a long moment. Each packed with their own set of emotions. Finally he dropped to the bed beside her and wrapped her into his arm. He wasn't sure what to say, but he knew he couldn't let her go back to the Brotherhood.

She kissed him all over the face and smiled at him, belying the pain she felt knowing that this would end all too soon. _Make the most of it._ Pushing the painful thoughts away, she tried to neaten his hair that she'd thoroughly messed up. "That was… _good_."

"Good, Ness? You damn me with faint praise." He moved his hand to her bottom and gave her a pinch.

She yelped and knocked his hand away. "There's always room for improvement. Isn't that what you always said when I was picking locks or trying to practice my pickpocketing on Vekel or Delvin?" She gave him an impish grin. "Then you'd make me do it all over again."

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "You're going to need to let nature take her course, lass. I don't recover quite as quickly as I once did."

She leaned out of the bed and stretched her arm out, searching among the bottles they'd stacked on the table between the two beds. The one she selected was filled with a yellow liquid. "Drink this and you will."

"A stamina potion?" he said, laughter in his eyes. "Do you intend to kill me with your loving?"

"You won't die. I promise." She uncorked the bottle and held it out to him. "You'll like it. Trust me."

He did like it. She was right. Her potions did taste like berries, and the surge of energy that began to build within him had him restored to full potency in no time. It never even occurred to him to stop or protest when she handed him another potion after another breathless conclusion.

They made love all that afternoon, only stopping to eat a very large dinner and then she handed him another stamina potion and they did it one more time.

_~o~o~o~_

She awoke in the middle of the night after a couple of hours of sleep. They were crowded into one small bed, limbs entwined. Pausing a moment, she judged he was very deeply asleep. There was a price to pay for drinking so many stamina potions and spending so many hours vigorously making love. She hadn't drunk any. She was exhausted, and not a little sore, but she had a deep well of stamina of her own to draw upon, maybe because of the dragon's blood, if that nonsense were even true.

Very slowly and carefully she untangled herself from him and dressed in her leather armor, fingering the hole that the arrow had made. She packed up her potions, leaving him a few healing potions, knowing he might need it the next day. She sat down at the little writing desk where the goat horn lamp was still burning and wrote him a note.

Her purse of coins was heavy. She hadn't spent much of the expense money. She took out a few septims for what she might need on her way back to the Sanctuary and left the rest on the table next to the note. Then she was ready. Her eyes filled with tears as she bent over Brynjolf and kissed him softly. "Forgive me," she whispered. She quietly slipped out the door and pulled it closed behind her.

_~o~o~o~_

The morning sun finally pierced Brynjolf's sleep and he awoke, emerging from the deepest sleep he'd had in a long time. Even before he opened his eyes the memories of the prior day flooded him and he smiled, reaching out to pull Nessa closer.

"Lass?" His arms came back empty and his eyes opened wide and he sat bolt upright in bed. A dozen scenarios ran through his head: She'd been captured. No, he would've surely awoken. She went out. Perhaps even now she was coming back to their room with a tray of food. A quick glance around the room dashed that hope. Her belongings were gone. There was a piece of paper, a blue ribbon laying on top of it, a bulging coin purse, and a few of the healing potions they'd bottled just the day before. She was gone.

With his heart sinking, he got up, took the ribbon, and read the note. He stalked back to the bed, cursing himself for being a fool. Why had he imagined he could convince her to leave? She'd told him plainly enough she couldn't. Or at least she thought she couldn't. Maybe Delvin could find an out for her. He folded her note carefully and, when he dressed, he stuck it into a pocket inside his cuirass, next to his heart.

The bag of septims she'd left him was weightier than any he'd carried in a long time. He felt a little guilt accepting them, but she hadn't exactly left him any choice. Well, they'd not go to waste. He'd take a carriage back to Riften. Better the interminable chatter of the driver than being left to thinking of how he'd found Nessa only to lose her again.

_~o~o~o~_

They held a party to honor Nessa on her return. Astrid was pleased with her performance and personally rewarded her with a large bonus.

Arnbjorn watched her all evening, noting how subdued she was and how little she said of her escape, or why her return was so delayed. Something had changed, he could practically smell it, but what it was eluded him. Perhaps there would be some time they could talk, but not with Astrid around. He didn't want to give her even more reason to be jealous of the girl.

"Everyone!" Astrid stood up and raised a glass of wine and turned to Nessa. "Our newest assassin has pulled off a very difficult assignment and brought the Dark Brotherhood to the lips of all Skyrim once again." She nodded to Nessa, smiling graciously. "Your next assignment will be much easier, but no less important."

The guild drank another toast to Nessa. She smiled and accepted the kudos with ease, but excused herself claiming exhaustion while the night was still early. Her brothers and sisters hugged her, and clapped her on the back, even Astrid. The only one that maintained a distance was Arnbjorn. He caught her eyes and nodded respectfully to her, their exchange more private and somehow more eloquent than all the words they might have said to one another.

When she turned to leave, he saw her pale skin through the hole in her armor. A cold chill went through him. There was more to her story than she'd revealed. Despite his desire to appease Astrid's wrath by feigning disinterest in Nessa, he wanted to know what had happened. By Hercine, he'd have it from her.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Final Note: **__All right, I am going to finish that #$# ! chapter in Post Blight Management for Dummies if it kills me. _

_Thanks everyone for reading and I look forward to reading your comments!_


	28. Chapter 28

Not even Thaer's incessant blathering could keep Brynjolf's mind engaged. The carriage driver had a lot of stories to tell about his adventures driving between the cities of Skyrim, and when he finished them, he'd start over and tell them again. That is when Brynjolf would look up into the blessedly clear sky and be reminded of a pair of sky-colored eyes.

He'd read that note so many times he had it memorized, but he retrieved it from his pocket and read it again.

_ Dear Brynjolf,_

_ I thought I should leave thief-style and sneak away into the shadows where we live. When you wake up, tell yourself I was a dream. Tell yourself none of this happened. I know I can never leave the Dark Brotherhood. The Night Mother has claimed me. If I am to be less of a child, I must accept my fate. Entertaining impossible fantasies of a different life than the one I ended up with isn't helpful._

_ I am grateful for all you did for me and how much you risked. I know I can never truly repay you, but I hope the coin at least reimburses you for what you spent._

_ I will never forget this time we've spent together, the feeling of your hands on my body. Don't even get me started on your kisses or how much I love staring into your e—_

There's a dark blot where something wet smudged the ink.

_ You can see why I have to sneak away. I don't think I could have done it with your eyes looking into mine. It can't be any other way and I'm sure you realize that too._

_ It is probably just as well that you say nothing to anyone about me being alive. Better to have my friends think I'm dead than how things really ended up. _

_ As you always said, and such good advice it is: Eyes open and walk with the shadows._

_ Yours,_

_ Nessa_

Face turned up to the sky, he imagined her looking back at him and a one sided conversation played out in his head. _You give up too easy, lass, and the shadows aren't going to be cover enough. You might have slipped away for now, but this isn't over. You are right about one thing, Ness, you owe me and there's only one way to repay that debt._

That might do it. Maybe he could shame her into trying. She was a good hearted girl, his words would make her feel guilty and she'd try to put things to right. He'd bolster her confidence and she'd try to throw off these shackles, real or imagined. He leaned back in the carriage, folding his arms behind his head and smiled confidently into the blue sky.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I snuck into the temple of Dibella in Markarth?" the carriage driver asked, not even waiting for a reply before launching into another retelling of his bawdy tale.

"In the last half hour, no," Brynjolf muttered.

_~o~o~o_

_Lovely, lovely, gossiping baby vampire!_ Cicero hid his malevolent grin behind a fake yawn. She'd told the crabby old mage, and the delightful Gabrielle. Even Veezara—who normally stayed aloof from gossip—had heard enough to make him question Cicero. _Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes!_ He tittered quietly into his napkin at dinner and Astrid's head turned abruptly to look at him. Oh no, that was much more a glare than a look. _Hee, hee! _She must've heard little gusts of gossip, floating on the air, petting the ears of even the most willfully ignorant.

Every day the Pretender seemed a little more unsettled, a little more suspicious, and when Nessa came to dinner her smile became brittle, but she always invited the cherub to sit with her and her wolf-man husband.

_Poor cherub. _It was clear that whatever might have existed between the three of them was well over, and the Listener had been discarded like a wilted bouquet. She always looked uncomfortable sitting there, near her two former lovers, but since she'd returned from Sithis' business she had been different. There was still an air of sadness about her, but she had changed. She was more accepting, even resigned to her change in status.

He'd been worried about her. She hadn't wanted to be Listener. _Not wanted to be Listener?_ Even now that sounded impossible, not to mention heretical. It had made him angry. Rightfully so! He would have given everything, _everything, _to hear his dear matron's voice and she didn't want to talk to sweet Cicero. _Argh! _Where was the justice in that? _Dear, sweet Mother, why didn't you just speak to me?_

_She didn't!_ the growling, part of his mind said. _She spoke to the cherub._ G_et over it._

Oh, yes. Sweet Cicero would serve his Listener too. He would make very certain she didn't run away. Mother wouldn't like that. He invented tales of Listeners who had tried to flee their obligations and the horrific fates they met in this life and then in the Void. He worked to undermine Astrid's influence. His brothers and sisters were reminded, whenever the Pretender was out of earshot, how the guild should be run. He regaled them with stories of past glory when there was a Listener, and four Speakers, the five digits of the Black Hand, the five tenets.

Festus Krex was an avid supporter, he was certain of that. Babette, he wasn't sure of. The little girl had ties to Astrid since they were both vampires. Gabriella supported the Night Mother too. Although her loyalties seemed divided, Cicero counted her on his side. The Redguard, Nazir, was loyal only to Astrid. Cicero mentally scratched that one off his list with a sneer. Arnbjorn, forget about him. The dog would follow his wife. That just left Veezara who certainly honored the traditions, but also respected the existing hierarchy. However, he looked troubled by the news that Nessa was the new Listener. If Veezara was with him, that left the guild evenly divided.

The one person he really didn't know how to count was the Listener herself. Ah well, it hardly mattered. All he had to do was engineer the ouster of the Pretender and Nessa would do what she had been appointed to do.

He dug into his venison roast with relish and played the clown for Babette's amusement and Nazir's irritation.

_~o~o~o~_

Leaving on the pretext of hunting, Arnbjorn took on his wolf form and followed Nessa's trail. She had gone out to collect alchemy ingredients an hour earlier. Astrid wouldn't follow him out in the middle of the day. His wife could tolerate the sun, but it was highly uncomfortable to her. He picked up the girl's trail and followed it into the forest for quite a ways until he finally saw her. She was sitting on a fallen tree and staring at the herbs she had collected, looking as sad as he'd ever seen her.

Stepping out from the underbrush, he stood a moment as she turned to look at him. This reminded him of the time, months earlier, she had begged him to tear her throat out, but this time she didn't look ready to die. She looked startled for only a moment, reaching toward a dagger, but then she realized it was him.

"Hi, Arnbjorn." She shifted over on the log, making room for him to sit down.

He shifted back to human and sat next to her. She didn't protest his nudity this time. She'd gotten over that, apparently. "Hey, bit."

She gave him a half-hearted smile. "What brings you out here, today?"

He looked out, into the forest. "You, actually. I wanted to know what happened in Solitude." He turned to her suddenly, his glance piercing her. "The _real_ story."

She turned at the waist to look him in the eyes. "Why should you even care, woof? I did the job Astrid sent me on."

He got up, a little growl in his throat, and began to pace. "I didn't stop caring for you, just because Astrid feels…" he broke off suddenly. "I thought we were still friends, no matter what."

Dropping her eyes, Nessa studied her hands. "We are. I'm sorry. It's still a little raw. I haven't forgotten anything. I don't feel any different either, but I know where things stand and I've accepted that."

He scrutinized her closely. "Good. Just so you know nothing has changed for me. If we can't be together, we can be friends. All right?"

She nodded and said nothing more.

"I saw the hole in your armor. What happened?"

"I almost died."

"Didn't Veezara…" he started to say.

"Veezara was there? I didn't see him. I hurt my ankle, panicked, and got lost. A guard shot me with an arrow."

"Hircine's hind foot, bit," he looked at her with concern. "How'd you escape?"

"Someone was looking out for me. I ran into a friend, almost literally. I didn't know it until much later though." She smiled at the memory of waking up in that cesspit under Solitude and seeing Brynjolf's face.

"Mara's tits, morsel. You were lucky. What angel rescued you?"

"A friend from the thieves' guild. He recruited me, trained me, even gave me my first set of lock picks." Her voice trailed off and a little smile set up on her face, but it was followed by a sigh.

That was a lot to take in. The smile, the sigh, they all spoke volumes that her words hadn't. He grunted quietly, feeling a stab of jealousy that surprised him, but it surprised him even more that she had returned.

"Why did you come back, bit? Don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry you did, for my own selfish reasons, but it is plain you care for this thief."

Nessa looked at him, her brows drawn down with confusion. "Do I even have a choice in the matter? The Night Mother selected me, Arnbjorn. How do I walk away from that and not suffer the consequences? Cicero has warned me I can't dodge this."

"Stupid clown, he wouldn't tell you the truth, if he even knows it," he growled.

"She can get in my head. If I defy her she'll drive me as mad as Cicero, at the very least." Looking at Arnbjorn, she gripped his wrist. "What about… _him?_"

"Him?"

Leaning closer, Nessa whispered. "Sithis."

"Ah, well… as near as I can tell he doesn't talk to anyone."

She didn't look reassured. "I can't leave."

He didn't like all the talk of gods and their ilk; it always reminded him that Hircine would probably claim him when he died. Not that it was all that bad. He liked hunting. It seemed as good a way to spend his afterlife, but who decides what to do in life based on where they're going to spend eternity?

It was the Night Mother's presence that was messing everything up, Arnbjorn realized. Before she'd come to their Sanctuary, everything had been fine. Now she'd appointed a Listener and nothing would be the same. He'd heard the rumors too. The clown had told someone and now he often heard the word 'listener' dying on someone's lips when he entered a room. Astrid had noticed too. She'd maintained her cool so far and hadn't given anything away, but it was just a matter of time. This whole issue could tear the Dark Brotherhood apart, and he was caught in the middle, caring for both the women at the center of the maelstrom.

It suddenly hit him with a stunning clarity that these two opposing forces would eventually be forced to resolve this and, as it seemed to him now, the only resolution would a grim one.

He had a sudden vision again of meeting Nessa that night in the forest when she'd begged him to kill her, only this time he saw her lying under him, her throat ripped out, dying. Maybe that would have been a mercy. Would Nessa even put up a fight when Astrid finally decided to put an end to this challenge to her authority? Or would she sit stoically, like she had that night in the forest, and beg for death?

There had to be a way out of this. He understood that Nessa believed the Night Mother would drive her insane if she fled. She would rather die than lose her mind, of course. He would feel the same way.

"Bit, I don't know how to fix this, but I won't stop trying. There must be something." He gently grasped her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Turning to him, she smiled, her eyes locked to his. He was reminded of all those times in Solitude, lost in their sky blue depths as they made love.

Gods help him. If it ever came down to defending his wife, or the girl, he knew his duty, but it would kill him.

_~o~o~o~_

"Milk Lis." Babette handed Nessa a bottle and turned back to the alchemy table.

"The spider?" There was an edge of panic to Nessa's voice. "You want me to _milk_ a giant spider? It doesn't even have teats!"

Babette couldn't help herself, she burst out in laughter. "Not milk, silly. Poison! Just hold out the dead rabbit. Lis will come over. You just collect the stuff that leaks out while she's eating. She's a messy eater."

Nessa's stomach wretched at the thought. "Gods, Babette. Are you sure? I've seen those bones down there. Is that the last person who tried that?"

"I do it all the time. Lis is a pussy-cat, she won't attack you if you give her a rabbit and scratch her forehead. Those bones are from some guy that snuck into the Sanctuary a few months before you joined us. We threw him to Lis." She giggled at the memory.

"He screamed for hours while Lis played with him. Finally she ate his tongue and he could only make this noise like… 'Hur, hur, hur'. Then she ate half his jaw and it sounded like…'Unh, unh, unh'. It took her three days before she finally killed him. It was interesting, and a little noisy."

"I'm taking my dagger, just in case." The story had turned her stomach. She went to her room and strapped her daggers to her back and returned to Babette.

"Get on. Or are you too scared?"

More like disgusted, Nessa thought. She'd killed enough frostbite spiders, but she hated them. She glowered at Babette, walked to the edge of the pit, trying to swagger confidently, and then jumped down, ignoring the ladder. She didn't want to turn her back on the spider.

Lis rustled up to her, her legs sounding like dry leaves in the wind. She seemed to taste the air and know that Nessa was coming with a treat, but she waited patiently for it.

Gulping, Nessa took a step forward and placed the rabbit on the ground. Just as Babette had said, the spider turned her full attention to it.

"Go on and pet her!" Babette goaded her.

Ignoring every instinct that instructed her to flee, she reach out a hand and scratched her behind one of her too-many eyes. She was surprised to hear a light, purring sound come from the spider.

"Gods, Babette! It is an abomination, it purrs like a kitten."

Babette laughed shrilly. "See! I told you she's a pussy-cat. Now, hold the container under her jaws and collect that goop."

Gathering her nerve, and trying to quiet the heaving of her insides, she slowly moved the container under the frost spider's jaws as it chewed the rabbit, and watched the green goo drip into the jar.

"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever witnessed," Nessa swore. She crouched next to Lis, holding stock still and praying that the spider wouldn't confuse her with the rabbit. The ichor dripped steadily into the jar at a good rate, but it seemed an eternity.

"That's good, Nessa. You can come up now," the little vampire said.

Slowly she pulled the jar out from under the spider and looked around for a moment, only briefly daring to take her eyes off the purring horror. There was something pale sticking up in the midst of the intruder's bones that caught her eye. Not really wanting to stay in the pit any longer than she needed to, she edged over to the pile of bones and toed the pale object. It flipped out of the center of the bones and she saw it was a folded piece of parchment. Holding the jar of spider slime carefully, she snatched up the paper and stuck it in her pocket.

With careful haste, still trying to keep an eye on Lis, she handed the jar up from the pit to Babette's outstretched hands. Then, with one final look back, she climbed out of the pit as fast as she could.

Free of the disgustingly arachnid, she began to shake with nerves. "Never again, Babette, I'd rather face a dozen of those things with a sword than have to do that ever again!"

"Aw! Poor Lis," Babette crooned at the spider. "Don't listen to the mean old Listener, sweetheart." Babette clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled. "Oops."

Coming from one horror and then confronting another, in the form of an accidental title, made her mouth drop open.

_She knows!_

Logically, it followed, if Babette knows, everyone knows. So, the news was out. "Cicero?" Nessa asked.

Dimples formed in her cheeks and her eyes glinted merrily. "Of course, Nessy! You didn't imagine you could keep that a secret, did you?"

"I suppose everyone knows now."

"Well, of course. News that big is made to be shared. It has quite caught everyone's imagination that the Unholy Matron chooses to speak through our newest, sweetest recruit."

"Not quite everyone's," Nessa muttered.

"I suppose you're right about that." She sat down in a chair and swung her feet. "What're you going to do?"

Nessa looked at her thoughtfully. "Nothing. I don't need to do anything but listen to the Night Mother's commands and relay them to Astrid. Nothing needs to change other than we don't have to search so hard for contracts."

Raising an eyebrow, Babette hummed softly. "That would be the sensible thing, but not everyone feels that way. Some want to restore the Listener as the leader of the guild and return to the old ways. Others… Well, some of us are happy with Astrid leading things."

"As am I."

The little vampire took her measure for a long moment then nodded. "I believe you. So, do you feel honored to have been chosen?"

An expression of fury crossed her face before she was able to subdue it. "No. This isn't what I wanted or sought. I'm sick of being used as a pawn in someone else's game." Such a candid expression of anger and frustration was so unusual for Nessa, it shocked even her.

Babette's eyes opened wide and her mouth fell open. For one moment she looked shocked, then amused. "Perhaps it isn't such a bad thing after all." She wiped her hands clean on a towel and grinned at Nessa. "You have changed, my dear." She handed the jar of spider goop to Nessa. "Now, why don't you make some poison out of this stuff."

She flashed an impish smile at Nessa and left.

Nessa looked at the jar of frostbit spider venom and shivered with disgust again, but set about bottling it up. She wondered what Babette had meant by her last comment. It was disturbing to find that everyone now knew about her being the Listener. As she finished bottling the last of the poison, she decided it might be best if she got her next assignment as soon as possible and get out of the Sanctuary. If people were talking about her being the Listener, she didn't want to hear it. Certainly, her presence would only inflame things further.

She cleaned up and prepared to go see Astrid, but she remembered the piece of parchment she had found in the bones. She took it out and read it:

_My scribing tools are lost, and I've no time for a lengthy entry, anyway. It's taken weeks, but I've finally found it! The Sanctuary of the Dark Brotherhood! One of them, anyway. In Skyrim, under a forest road._

_I've been watching them, the assassins. Their comings and goings. The fools have no idea they're being observed. My next goal is to somehow make it past the sinister black door, into the Sanctuary itself._

_I don't have time to even think about the dangers. The truth must be known!_

Someone had learned how to get past the door? What if he had told someone else? Now that she thought about it, she wondered if they ever changed the passphrase for the door. Surely a former assassin could sell the information, or it could be tortured from someone. Well, either way, Astrid should see this note.

Wending her way up the long hallway, she paused as Astrid came into view. The sight was a stunning one. The guild master was leaning over her desk, her finger tracing a line along a map. The way the lamplight reflected off her lovely pale skin made Nessa catch her breath. The echoes of her enthrallment tugged at her, making her heart ache once more at their estrangement.

"Hello, Nessa," Astrid said, without turning around.

She had thought she was undetected, but Astrid had an uncanny ability to sense her. She'd told her once that her blood called to her. Perhaps it still did. Maybe an enthrallment worked both way and Astrid felt as she did.

"Astrid, I thought you should see this." Dismissing her longings she went to stand at Astrid's side and showed her the paper. "I found this in Lis's pit, among the bones."

She read it and turned to Nessa with an amused expression. "He certainly paid for his curiosity. It was impossible to sleep a wink for three days."

"What if he managed to tell someone else the password to the door?" she asked. "Shouldn't it be changed?"

A look of irritation crossed Astrid's face. "There's no reason to believe he got a message out before we found him. Besides, there's the little matter of no one knows how to change the password. That information has been lost with the eradication of the other Sanctuaries. You don't need to concern yourself with it… Listener."

The message was quite clear. Nessa shouldn't have made the suggestion; Astrid was in charge of their security. The next thing she did surprised her. Or rather, what she didn't do. She didn't apologize.

"I'm ready to take another contract," she found herself saying. "If one is available."

Apparently Astrid was taken by surprise too. Her eyebrow rose, and then settled. A pleasant smile returned to her lips and she nodded. "I do. I was going to let you rest for a week or so, I know your last job must have been taxing. There's no need to hurry off."

"I'm ready."

"All right. Gabriella and I have been planning this. She'll give you the details."

Nessa nodded and turned away, the back of her neck prickling, certain that Astrid was watching her leave and wondering if she felt as she did, like that bond between them was still there, but gossamer thin and stretched taut.

She found Gabriella in the workshop, above Lis's pit. "Astrid said you would have the details of my next contract." She wasted no time at getting down to business.

"Of course, Nessa. The Emperor will surely be arriving in Skyrim and his security service, the Penitus Oculatus, will need to begin preparations immediately. Security is being handled by a Commander Maro. Astrid and I have devised a plan to break the man, and in doing so, cripple the Emperor's protection."

Nodding, Nessa settled into a chair and listened closely.

"You are to slay the commander's son, Gaius Maro, and once he is dead, plant false evidence on his body implicating him in a plot to kill the Emperor. He is set to leave the Penitus Oculatus outpost at Dragon Bridge, and inspect the security of each city in Skyrim. Go there. Observe Gaius Maro's departure, and follow him. Waylay him in one of the cities, and send his soul to Sithis. Once he is dead, plant this letter on his body, and let fate take care of the rest."

Nessa took the letter from Gabriella and inspected it. She nodded her understanding to the Dunmer assassin.

"Oh, one more thing. To earn your bonus, do not kill Gaius Maro in Dragon Bridge, or on the road. Kill him in one of the other major cities he'll be visiting. There, the body will be discovered quickly, as will the letter implicating Gauis Maro in the plot to assassinate the Emperor."

"Of course," Nessa said, nodding.

Gabriella, all business a moment ago, smiled kindly at Nessa. "May Sithis go with you, Listener," she spoke quietly.

_Listener again!_ "Thank you, Gabriella."

The next morning she rose before dawn and whistled for Shadowmere. They were off to Dragon Bridge just as the sun crested the mountains.

_~o~o~o~_

The barrage of questions pelted him as he walked into the Cistern.

"Were you in Solitude when the Emperor's cousin was murdered at her wedding?"

"Was the Dark Brotherhood behind it? That's what everyone is saying."

"How were the pickings, lad?"

That last was from the ever business-minded Delvin.

"Whoa!" Brynjolf held up a hand, his eyes twinkling with good humor. "Give me a few to settle in and have a chat with Delvin. I'll stand you lads a round later tonight. Now, go make us some money."

"Come on, Bryn. First round's on me." Delvin clapped him on the back and guided him to the quietest, most private corner of the Ragged Flagon.

"Thanks, old man, but I've got it." Setting the heavy bag of coin on the table, he smiled at his old friend.

Delvin whistled appreciatively. "That's some haul, Brynjolf. I bet there's some telling involved in how you got burdened with that much gold."

The red-haired thief's eyebrow rose and he leaned in conspiratorially. "There is, but I need your discretion."

"You have it, lad. To the grave and beyond," Delvin swore. "Upon the honor of the Lady of Shadows."

Brynjolf trusted Delvin even without the fancy swearing. He was one of the few truly tight-lipped people Brynjolf had ever known.

"I saw the assassination in Solitude. And yes, the pickings were good."

"Hold on lad, this sounds like thirsty work. Let's have some proper lubrication." Delvin signaled to the barkeeper, Vekel. "Bring us the usual, and keep them coming, we might be here a while."

Vekel didn't have far to go, and he returned in short order with their mead.

"Keep the change." Brynjolf slipped him a little extra, something to help make up for all the times he'd been short.

"Now," Delvin continued as Vekel left, "I want to hear all about that, of course. They're saying it was an Argonian that did it. I remember a young lizard-man from my time there, Zeevara, or some such. They train some of them to be assassins from the moment they hatch. Formidable."

Brynjolf shook his head, frowning. "Wasn't the lizard, he was just a decoy. I saw the true assassin." He took a long pull on his bottle of mead and leaned back in the chair, reliving it all. "She was in a balcony off the Temple of the Divines, well-shaded. It was only just pure luck I saw her."

"Her? Was it Astrid herself? Attractive Nord, blond hair?" Delvin prompted.

"Not that I could see. Picture this, Del. This figure, clad in black armor, rose up from the balcony, her face and head obscured by a cowl and mask. I couldn't tell it was a man or woman at that point, just a slender figure with a wicked looking bow."

Delvin watched his friend retelling the story, intrigued at the detail he was providing.

"She waited until the Emperor's cousin was in the midst of some long-winded speech about peace and what-not when she let loose her arrow. It flew across the courtyard and buried itself in the woman's throat, killing her instantly."

"A good kill is a thing of beauty." Delvin raised his bottle to salute the unknown assassin.

Brynjolf wondered about his friend. There might still be a bit of assassin left in him, even after all these years. "That's when this Argonian popped up and drew the guards to him, most of them anyway. Her guild brother, I assume.

"I figured I had a score to settle with the Brotherhood, so I went after the real assassin. She jumped off the wall and twisted her ankle. I nearly had her at that point, but she got away from me."

Delvin's eyes got big. "You've got a death wish, lad. I told you not to go messing with them."

Shrugging he continued his story. "A few guards and myself were running after her. I knew she was headed for the stairs that go below the city, but they were blocked by guards. When she changed course, one of them shot her right in the back." He shook his head at the memory. "By all rights, it should've taken her down, but she kept going somehow. She panicked, though, and got lost. I managed to catch up to her, grabbed the cowl off her head and tripped her in the process. That's how I found out it was a woman."

"Go on, lad. Please, just don't tell me you killed her. Last thing we need is a war with the Brotherhood."

Brynjolf smiled at his friend and looked him square in the eye, eager to see his reaction. "I saved her life, old man." He paused for effect. "It was Nessa."

In the middle of a deep draught of mead, Delvin choked and sputtered. "Gods, lad. You're fooling with me now. Our Nessa?"

"The very one. Apparently you were lied to about her death."

Shaking his head, Delvin looked stunned. "Our sweet Nessa, an assassin? I can't say I'm surprised Astrid lied. She's a formidable woman. She'll do whatever is expedient."

"I hid her in the old thieves' guild under Solitude. Damn near lost her to blood loss, then the lung fever. I found Enthir. You remember him? He treated her and she was up in no time."

Delvin shook his head, still looking stunned. "I can't get over it, lad. Is she happy?"

Brynjolf's face sobered as he paused to reflect on her story. "No. It's pretty clear she isn't."

"Poor girl. I had a few of those narrow escapes myself. I doubt I'd be here today if I'd stayed with it. Damn dangerous work. Pay's good though."

A long silence fell between the men as Brynjolf collected his thoughts. There weren't many secrets between the two friends, but there was one he didn't care to share. The feelings he had for Nessa had grown from seeing her as a promising, if unlikely looking, protégé, to mourning her with an intensity that had surprised him. Delvin wouldn't understand that this wasn't just some temporary infatuation.

"I tried to get her to come back, but she said she couldn't. They've got some sort of hold over her."

Delvin looked puzzled for a moment. "They don't like losing good assassins. I can imagine that Nessa would be talented. She's about as unlikely as they come. That sweet face could lull anyone into a fatal complacency. Lure them into bed, and send them to Sithis just as they're finding bliss between her…"

Byrnjolf leaned forward suddenly, his green eyes flashing angrily. "She wouldn't," he seethed. "She doesn't have that sort of artifice."

The sudden outburst sent Delvin's brows up his forehead. "I'm getting' old, Brynjolf. Forgive me for not seeing what's right in front of me." He shook his head at his friend. "You've got it bad, my boy."

A scowl stole over Brynjolf's face as he settled back into his chair.

"You're getting so senile you're imagining things. Look, I just want to know if she could get free of the Brotherhood. I figured if anyone would know it would be you."

Chuckling, the older thief folded his hands around his mug and inspected his friend carefully.

"Assassins come and go. Sometimes they leave for good, sometimes they go broke and come back. Some guild masters are more reasonable than others. Astrid might be as ruthless as they come, but she's not entirely unreasonable. If they're working on some big job she needs Nessa for, she'll make her finish it out."

Byrnjolf paused, wondering how his next question would play out. This was the part of Nessa's story he'd doubted the most. Oh, no doubt she believed it, but he couldn't believe that she was some sort of conduit for the Night Mother's wishes. It just seemed so bloody unlikely.

Delvin was draining the last of his bottle in a steady, deep draught.

"What if she were the Listener?" Brynjolf asked.

For the second time that night Delvin choked on his drink. This time he turned red in the face and coughed for a full minute until Brynjolf got up and pounded him on the back.

"You okay, Del? Don't go dying on me. I can't handle Mercer by myself."

Composing himself, Delvin held up a hand to reassure Brynjolf he wasn't in danger of expiring. "You need to stop doing that. Wait until after I've swallowed before you drop a bomb like that on me."

"So there's something to this Listener thing?"

"Lad," Delvin stopped, clearing his throat of phlegm from the coughing fit, "The Listener is the leader of the Dark Brotherhood. They're not likely to just let someone walk away from that. It's supposed to be an honor."

"She says Astrid is none too happy about it."

Pursing his lips, Delvin nodded. "I can imagine that. She's kept that Sanctuary running despite everything for a long time, without any interference from the Night Mother or the traditionalists in the Brotherhood." He swirled the dregs of his mead pensively. "I wouldn't want to be in her position."

"Whose? Nessa's or Astrid's?"

"Either one, but I can't imagine Astrid is going to give over to a girl as green as Nessa with grace. Maybe they can work it out, though." He shrugged. "Not that this is any of our affair, Byrn. I think we'd best keep well away from it and not choose sides."

"That's what you told me last time, and I did. It never set well with me. I feel some responsibility for what happened to her. If I'd done more, she wouldn't have been abducted and she wouldn't be the Listener."

"There's not a damn thing we can do here, lad. You mess in this and if the Brotherhood doesn't kill you, Mercer will."

"I'll take that under advisement," Brynjolf said, pensively, knowing full well that he wouldn't. Not this time.

_~o~o~o~_

It was easy to infiltrate the Penitus Oculatus headquarters in Dragon Bridge. The special security force didn't find anything suspicious about the pretty blonde Nord who flirted her way into the building and flounced out indignantly after one agent got a little too adventurous with his hands.

Gaius Maro had already left, she learned, but she found a copy of the schedule sitting on a desk. It was whisked away and stuck under her corset.

Walking out of town to a secluded copse, she leaned against Shadowmere as she read his itinerary.

"Whiterun?" she asked Shadowmere. He ignored her. "No, too many people know me there. What about Solitude?" She shuddered at the thought of going back there yet again. "Right, scratch Solitude. Um… Riften?" That one made her stop and think for a moment. No, too much likelihood she'd run into someone other than just Brynjolf and she'd have to explain why she wasn't dead.

"Windhelm?"

Shadowmere looked at her with nothing of interest in his expression.

"Why not? I've never been there. Ulfric is there. We nearly lost our heads together. Do you suppose he remembers me? Hm, why would an Imperial feel safe in Windhelm anyway? Maybe that'd be ideal. Certainly if he were treating with the enemy it'd be in that city."

Shadowmere nudged her with his nose as if to hurry her to a decision.

"All right, Windhelm it is."

It was a long journey and Nessa didn't dare try to sneak into the Palace of the Kings. She waited, clad in her assassin leathers, around a secluded corner and took him as he walked past. She moved so quickly, covering his mouth with the crook of her elbow and driving her dagger deep into his vitals, that he never made a noise. The training she'd done with Veezara had paid off. She silently thanked his patient instruction as she planted the incriminating note on his corpse.

She was back in the shadows and holding her breath as a guard rounded a corner and found his body. Slipping out of town, dressed in a simple frock and holding a basket filled with flowers, was easy. No one thought to question the pretty Nord girl with the sweet smile.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Many thanks for the reviews! Fluttermoth, Biff McLaughlin, Zevgirl, Inuyashagirl2015, Heiwako, eep246, x_janel_x, TS Hills, TheOtherLachance._

_Heiwako… your mind is in the gutter, I approve._

_The muse is strong right now and we're getting to the thick of the story. I can always use more cheerleaders! _

_BTW: If any of you love the Skyrim music like I do, you might want to look up Jeremy Soule's new symphony, "The Northerner". I'm not exactly sure when it will be released, but there was a Kickstarter campaign for it, which I contributed to. The guy is an awesome composer!_

_Next update will be after I finish the next chapter in "Post Blight Management for Dummies". _

_Thanks for reading!_


	29. Chapter 29

"Should we stop in Falkreath, Shadowmere?"

They were nearly back to the Sanctuary when Nessa thought about the shopkeeper and the possibility that Brynjolf might have sent a message to her. It was foolishness. She never should've mentioned it to him. It had been a moment of weakness, before she'd made the decision to sneak away in the night and leave her childish illusions behind. Even now her cheeks burned as she thought of the emotionally overwrought letter she'd left for him.

_Tell yourself I was a dream._

"Gods! What was I thinking, Mere? Probably dozens of women that have thrown themselves at Brynjolf, and I'm the only one stupid enough to imagine it meant something more to him than a night of lust."

Shadowmere nodded, jiggling his bit noisily.

Well, that was silly coincidence, she thought. How would a horse know? Still, Shadowmere had tried to bite Brynjolf in the first display of hostility she'd ever seen him make. Maybe the horse could see into the hearts of men and he was just trying to protect her. It gave her something to think about other than trying to match the exact shade of green in Brynjolf's eyes to moss on the rocks, or the mid-summer heath.

A fox dashed onto the road ahead of her pursued, of all things, by a crow. The crow dove down and clutched double claws full of red fur and took off again. Yelping in pain, the fox ran ahead of Shadowmere, then finally peeled off the road, climbed a boulder to sit in the sun, and watch her pass. His hair gleamed in the afternoon sun, burnished copper, almost the same shade as Byrnjolf's. That was enough to send her mind spinning back to that day, and night, at the inn. Surely she hadn't been imagining the reverence with which he'd traced her legs, from her ankles to her thighs, or the tenderness of his kisses, and the way he'd said her name—"Ness". No one else had ever called her that. It was his name for her and it made her feel older, more like a woman than a girl.

"I'm getting addled," she muttered. "He leaves off the last letter of my name and I get worked up over that?"

Shadowmere snorted in a way that Nessa thought was his way of making a sarcastic remark.

Brynjolf had been in her dreams of late. The Night Mother still pulled her to the tranquil garden, as she called it, but sometimes it would fade away to be replaced by a dimmer place where shadows were deeper, warm and comforting. Sometimes he would be there waiting for her, his arms gathering her in, his warm breath at her ear, and her name on his lips: "Ness".

That was such an odd dreamscape. She feared the light in that place and relished the murky shadows. Sometimes, when Brynjolf wasn't there, she dreamed that she was exploring the place. The only other signs of life were the crows. Sometimes they flew over in flocks large enough to block the feeble moonlight. Other times they would perch singly, or in small groups, cocking their ebon heads at her, and watching her move from shadow to shadow. It was an odd dream and it seemed to come with regularity lately.

She twisted around and watched the fox until they rounded a corner and he was out of sight. Yes, that was definitely the color of Brynjolf's hair.

They reached Falkreath that evening. Nessa debated with herself one last time, but decided she would go to the general store and check for a message. Of course there wouldn't be one and she would be disappointed, but then she could begin to forget about him. So just this once, she'd indulge herself and be prepared to feel like a foolish child.

"Well, let's get this over with, Shadowmere." She pulled his reins to guide him toward the village, but he ignored the command.

"Shadowmere!" She pulled harder this time and he finally turned toward the village but not without making a sarcastic snort. Whatever had gotten into the horse?

Dismounting outside of town, she left him under cover of the trees, going the rest of the way on foot. She made it to Gray Pine Goods just before Solaf left for the night.

"What can I do for you, lass? I was just about to get my supper," the shopkeeper said.

Feeling her face flush for no reason, she tried to ready herself for disappointment. "I was wondering if you might have a received a letter for me?"

He stared at her blankly for a moment, then his face lit up as he remembered her name. "Nessa, right?" He pulled a wooden box out from behind the counter and thumbed through the messages stacked within. "I did, indeed. Nearly a week ago."

"Oh, gods…" she said before she could stop herself. This was a possibility she hadn't allowed herself to dwell on. She held out her hand and noticed it was shaking ever so slightly has he passed it to her.

"Not bad news, I hope," Solaf said.

"I… No. Well, hopefully not. Just… unexpected." She turned and left the shop, staring at the sealed message, and examining the mark carved into the waxen seal. It looked like a shadowmark, the secret symbols used by the thieves' guild, but it wasn't one she knew. Perhaps it was his symbol?

She was afraid to open it. It would be a polite letter, of course, letting her down gently, telling her that what had happened had been a mistake. He'd be a gentleman and say that any man would be fortunate to have her, or some such nicety, but she would know that he was excluding himself from that statement.

By the time she reached Shadowmere, she decided she wouldn't read it until she was in her room alone. She didn't want anyone else to see her reaction, not even the horse. She tucked it into her pack and tried not to dwell on it.

_~o~o~o~_

"The Listener leads the guild. Been that way since the second era. If the girl is the Listener, then she's our leader. Couldn't be simpler than that," Festus said, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring Babette.

Babette shrugged noncommittally. "I might have given my life for the Unholy Matron once, but I follow Astrid now. Nothing against Nessa, but I don't think she's ready to lead the guild."

"Apparently the Night Mother felt otherwise," Festus drawled sourly.

"What do you think, Veezara?" Babette asked the Argonian.

Astrid lurked outside the room, overhearing the debate within the guild. This was what it finally came down to: who would betray her, and who would stand with her?

"I don't know. Babette is right, but so is Festus. I don't think Nessa is ready to lead, but the Night Mother has spoken to her," he replied, his voice as calm as always, but holding a note of bemusement that was unusual. "Yet, I can't believe the Night Mother would be mistaken."

Sick to death of overhearing these conversations and pretending like this controversy didn't exist, Astrid sighed and rounded the corner, surprising them in the midst of their gossiping.

"Your devotion to a long dead corpse is commendable, Festus, but I am the leader and will continue to be so." She looked pointedly at each person present. "If you're unhappy with that fact, then perhaps it is time to consider retirement. You have served this guild for many years and deserve a rest. That goes for any of you."

"Retirement! I'll retire when I can't burn my targets to ash, or one of them gets me first." He spat on the floor and glared at Astrid. "I think the one who should be considering retirement is you, frankly. It is time to return to the Tenets."

"I won't have an old man, a mere girl, or Sithis's whore telling me how to run _my _guild!" Her face twisted with all the fury she had been keeping bottled up all this time.

"Sithis's _whore?" _The jester's voice screeched from the same hallway she'd been lurking a few moments prior. He entered into the common room, his face twisted in his own fury. "The pretend leader dares to call the Night Mother a whore? This… this _pretender_ who leads our sacred Brotherhood away from the Five Tenets… She is the whore here!" He pointed his finger at Astrid, shaking with fury.

Astrid turned away from Cicero, feigning indifference. Her expression switched from fury to contempt. "Oh, go back to buggering your girlfriend's oily corpse."

There was an audible gasp as she said that. Everyone knew that Cicero's utter devotion to the Night Mother wouldn't let a comment like that to stand. Veezara reacted without thought, the instincts of an assassin serving him well. He rushed between Astrid and Cicero and blocked the jester's vicious lunge. Unfortunately the Argonian hadn't had time to draw his own weapon and barely deflected the blow away from Astrid, using his forearm to do it. He took a shallow gash from that, but Cicero had a dagger in the other hand and this one drove into Veezara's thigh.

Astrid cried out in warning and that drew Gabriella and Nazir from the backrooms, and she could hear Arnbjorn's answering roar coming from the dining area. By the time Arnbjorn made it to the common room, Cicero was already fleeing for the black door.

He stopped to check on her, hugging her tightly, and inspecting her for wounds.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. It's Veezara that is hurt."

Gabriella and Babette were already crouching down next to the Argonian and peeling away his ruined armor to get to the wounds.

"We're going to need healing potions," Gabriella said. "And bandages. He's bleeding badly."

Festus and Babette hurried away to get what was needed while the Dunmer assassin began to heal him.

"I'm going after him," Arnbjorn snarled. "I should have done this long ago."

Astrid worried for her husband. He was probably more than a match for the jester, but he'd been a good assassin before he was the Keeper. At best Cicero was unpredictable, at worst… She shook her head admitting to herself she didn't know. That infuriated her even more. He was a variable she couldn't control or predict. A part of her wanted to keep Arnbjorn from going, but she was the leader of the guild first and foremost. Eliminating Cicero once and for all, and restoring the guild to its status quo, was something that simply had to be done.

"I think it is for the best, love." She hugged him tightly and kissed him. "Do be careful. I'll get everyone here calmed down. I'll send help as soon as I can."

Arnbjorn looked at her one last time, reluctant to let her go, but then he turned to the long hallway leading out, and ran up the passage and out the door.

_~o~o~o~_

Nessa and Shadowmere ended their journey as the moon, Masser, was rising to fullness in the sky. The shadows were only held back by its dim, bloody glow. There was nothing new about this, Masser often appeared in the sky before pale Secunda, but tonight it felt like an omen. These weren't the comforting shadows she dreamed of, these shadows held menace. She bid farewell to Shadowmere and, forgetting the unopened message, she whispered the passphrase to the black door.

The door rolled back and before she got barely into the entrance she could hear the raised voices and excitement below. She jogged quickly down the stairs and emerged into the common room.

Astrid was doing her best to calm the feathers she'd ruffled earlier and Gabriella was hovering over Veezara anxiously.

"Veezara!" Nessa said and rushed over to him. "You're hurt."

Astrid rushed over and tapped Nessa on the shoulder. "It's all right. Gabriella has him stabilized."

"What's going on?"

"This never should have happened! We knew better. We knew better, and still we let our guards down!" Astrid said, crossing her arms and gazing with concern at Veezara.

"I'll admit, even I'm having a hard time disagreeing with you," Festus said, looking at Astrid a bit sheepishly.

There was some strange dynamic at work in the Sanctuary and Nessa couldn't put her finger on it. Astrid was nervous and tense, Festus was… contrite? "What is going on?" she asked again.

"The fool went berserk! He tried to kill me. If Veezara…" she trailed off and looked at the Argonian gratefully. "If he hadn't of thrown himself between us, I might be dead now." She pounded her fist against her open hand. "I knew that lunatic couldn't be trusted."

_Oh gods, Cicero. What have you done? _She turned to see Astrid's lovely face, creased with concern and watching her process the news. "Cicero?" She rubbed her forehead with a finger, still disbelieving it. Oh, granted he had his moments, but he never struck her as _that _unstable. Well, except where the Night Mother was concerned.

"It's true, I'm afraid," Festus said. "Cicero was a little whirlwind, slashing this way and that. It would've been funny, if he weren't trying to murder us all."

Astrid grasped her arm gently and pulled her aside. "We've got to deal with this. I'm fearful for Arnbjorn. He was in a rage when he went after that miserable fool. He might blunder into a trap. Cicero might be insane, but he's clever. Worse yet, he's unpredictable."

At Arnbjorn's name Nessa tensed. She could just imagine him in the sort of rage that Astrid was describing. "What do you want me to do," she asked.

"I want you to find that miserable little fool and end his life! But first, find Arnbjorn and make sure he's all right."

Nessa nodded. "Of course. But kill Cicero? Is that necessary? What set him off?"

Shifting slightly and looking at Gabriella, Astrid answered. "Nothing. Nothing I'm aware of."

Nessa cocked her head and frowned, looking directly at Astrid, not believing her. "You're certain of that?"

"Well… if I'm being honest, I haven't been exactly discreet lately in expressing my frustration with this situation." She gestured to indicate the connection to Nessa. "Obeying the Night Mother. You being the Listener. It's… ridiculous. No offense." She stopped and looked at Nessa with almost a hint of her old tenderness. "I think you agree with me, don't you? It is all absurd."

Just to have Astrid talking to her about it was a relief. "Gods, yes, Astrid. I never wanted this."

"I know, sweetling," Astrid said soothingly. "It may be that Cicero heard me talking to the others about the Night Mother. I was not entirely… respectful."

Nessa could just imagine the sort of thing Astrid might have said. "Oh."

"But to go this far. To attempt to murder me. Cicero must pay with his life. There is no other option. You must go after him." Astrid gripped her arm harder to underscore her words.

_Why me?_ The words nearly flew out of her mouth, but she stopped them before she could utter them. If Astrid sent anyone else, Cicero would certainly die. He would undoubtedly attack anyone who came after them… except perhaps her. But if Arnbjorn were there too, she wasn't sure she could prevent him from attacking.

"I'll do it. Where do you think they went?"

There was no mistaking the gratitude in Astrid's eyes. "Thank you, Nessa. I know I'm asking a lot of you. You must be exhausted…"

"I'll be fine."

"I don't know where they went. Try looking around Cicero's room and see if you can find anything. I need to try to get people calmed down here."

Nessa nodded and went to his room where she found the jester's journals. Reading them felt terribly intrusive and she only skimmed them until she caught up to where he came to Skyrim. Still, even with just a cursory reading she learned how it was he went insane, taking on the personae of his last victim. The things he'd been through—she shook her head in sympathy—she wasn't sure she could've survived such solitude.

The last volume of his journals provided a solid clue. Apparently he'd been to a Sanctuary in Dawnstar before coming here—Nessa hadn't even known there were other Sanctuaries in Skyrim. He had thought to stay there and not come here at all. Even back then he'd been critical of Astrid and this Sanctuary. No wonder he had been delayed for so long.

What were these references to guardians? He said they recognized the Keeper and left him alone. _Will they recognize me as the Listener?_

Repeating the pass-phrase until she memorized it, she decided to keep the journal with her in case she needed to refer to the map or crude drawings. She went back to the common room and found Astrid.

"I think I know where to find him." She kept the location to herself, not wanting Astrid to go after him when she didn't kill him. "I'll go now."

"Wait, take some supplies, just in case," Astrid said, grasping her arm as she turned to leave. "Babette, could you get some potions for Nessa?"

Babette nodded and scurried off, up to her alchemy lab.

"Nazir, get some travel rations for her."

The redguard went to the dining hall, taking the stairs two at a time.

"Where will you be heading?" Astrid asked.

Nessa bit her lip not wanting to give away his probable location, but if Arnbjorn followed him then she would know sooner or later. "The old Dawnstar Sanctuary."

Astrid nodded. "That makes sense. The old place has been abandoned for nearly a century." She took Nessa's pack from her and helped Babette pack up the potions and herbs. "I don't have to say it, do I? Be careful."

She shook her head. "I will be."

Nazir came back and Astrid packed the travel rations for her.

"Ride like the wind, sweet one. You'll have to stick to the roads with Shadowmere, and they can travel over land directly to Dawnstar, so don't assume you'll get ahead of them." Astrid hugged her tightly and whispered to her. "Once this is behind us, things will be better for us all."

Pulling away, Nessa looked at her, her face drawn and closed off. Of course, getting rid of Cicero would simplify things. The constant pressure to go back to the old ways, to have the Listener leading the guild… It would solve so many problems for both of them.

She nodded, returned Astrid's hug, and then left the Sanctuary.

_~o~o~o~_

Shadowmere wasn't the least bit tired from their just completed journey, but by the time they arrived in Dawnstar, even the demon horse was looking weary.

Nessa nearly fell from the saddle, her legs and seat numb. She leaned heavily against the horse, allowing the blood to circulate in her legs before she staggered to the inn. It had been a grueling trip, one where she had downed stamina potion after stamina potion, but eventually she'd had to rest along the way.

Each time she would sit down, back against a tree or boulder, wrapping herself in a heavy fur, intent on only resting her eyes for a few moments. Each time she'd awaken from a dreamless sleep hours later, having slept far longer than she planned. Once she awoke as she hit the earth, having fallen asleep on Shadowmere's back and then sliding off to fall into the road.

She had no idea how long it would take someone on foot to get to Dawnstar. Cicero could take a more direct route rather than being limited to roads like she was. Arnbjorn could go on four legs and follow the jester's scent, no doubt. She only hoped that they hadn't encountered one another along the way. Even now, one or both of them might be bleeding, dying out there in the wilderness, and she would never find them.

She stopped at Windpeak Inn to try to get her limbs working again by walking around a little. She got something warm to eat and drink too just in case she had to confront… whatever it is she found. Using the brief break from her long ride, she scrutinized the map in Cicero's journal. She wasn't sure exactly what that blob was. Maybe a ship? Was he referring to the docks? That thing spiraling up, out of a blocky looking thing—was that a chimney?

Feeling much better after a light meal and a hot drink, she went outside and held up his journal scrutinizing what she could see of the town. Yes, that blob would probably be a ship, and the chimney might be the one outlined against the hillside belonging to the longhouse. If she followed a path directly from that longhouse down to the water behind the village, she might find the entrance there, providing the crude sketch was accurate and she was interpreting it correctly.

She tightened the cinches on her armor, readjusted the blades strapped to her back, and remounted Shadowmere. This entire journey she couldn't help but think of the impossible position she had been placed in. No matter what she did she would be violating at least one of the Five Tenets. Failing to follow Astrid's order to kill Cicero would be breaking the third Tenet, and if she killed Cicero, she'd be breaking the fifth Tenet.

Arnbjorn and Astrid didn't believe that Sithis, if he even existed, gave a fig about what went on in Tamriel, but she knew that the Night Mother existed and she did care. Nessa reluctantly shut her eyes and prayed to her, not knowing if it would do any good at all. "Am I doing the right thing? Can't you guide me?" There was no answer, but a swirl of wind caught some loose, newly fallen snow and swept it up into the air where it fell around her, glittering in the sun as it did. She shivered as the cold wind found its way into her armor. That was no divine sign, she knew. The wind and snow had been her constant companions on this grim trip.

_Fine_. If no one was going to guide her decision she'd just take the one she thought best. Sithis and the Night Mother would get a piece of her mind if they decided to punish her over this. She angrily spurred Shadowmere over the last hill toward the water's edge.

Just beyond the edge of a rock outcropping she caught sight of something dark against the white snow. As she drew closer, she saw it was a man. _Arnbjorn! _She reined in Shadowmere and threw herself off him, and knelt down next to him where he lay panting in pain.

"Gods, Arn. Where are you hurt?" She began to pull at his armor, unfastening the straps and pulling his cuirass open.

"My side. How did you find me?" he growled. Coughing, he flinched with pain and sagged back to the ground.

"I found his journal and thought he might come here." She unstrapped her supplies from Shadowmere and threw down a heavy fur on the cold ground. "Onto the fur, you," she said, helping him to crawl onto the fur.

"Ah ha ha," he chuckled, "I like it when you get bossy, bit." He winced though and carefully put his hand to his side. "Gods, that hurts."

"Don't touch it!" she scolded him. "Roll over. There. Let me see it." She pulled his hand away and took a look at the wound. Her breath hissed when she saw it. "Cicero?" She worked at cleaning it with healing potion while she questioned him.

"Yes. I have to admit that the clown is good with his butter knife. But don't worry, I gave as good as I got."

She frowned at that comment, but attended to his wound. "Where is he?"

"Through the door. It's some old Sanctuary, by the looks of it. I would have followed him, but I don't know the phrase."

"Thank the gods," she said harshly. "You're in no condition to fight him." She finished cleaning the wound and began to cast a healing spell.

He groaned relaxing back against the fur as her healing spell dulled some of the pain. "I suppose you're right. But I slashed him good. Don't know what you're going to find in there, but you can probably follow the trail of blood."

Nodding, Nessa continued to heal the wound until her mana was exhausted. It had stopped bleeding and looked to be far less life threatening. "Do you think you could ride? Take Shadowmere and start home. Astrid needs you. The Sanctuary was pretty tense when I left."

He regarded her for a long moment. "I should help you in there."

Shaking her head at him, she finished dressing the wound with a clean cloth. "No. You said he's gravely injured. I'll deal with it. Astrid is worried about you, Arn." She busied herself with his care, trying not to show her own worry.

"Bit," he said, grasping her hands in his. "This is the way out for us. For all of us. I should have killed him long ago."

She stopped what she was doing to look at his face intently. She could see worry there, but hope too. He really did see killing Cicero as the solution to all their problems.

"Be careful, Nessa." He squeezed her hands, and then wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her face down to his. He kissed her softly.

She closed her eyes, all the times they'd kissed in the past—the soft brush of his mustache against her face, his smell—came surging to the present, but with it came the memory of another man. Parting from his lips regretfully, she shook her head. "There's no going back, Arnbjorn."

For a long moment he stared at her, but then nodded. "I know, bit."

Smiling grimly at him, she stood. "Take Shadowmere and go, Arn. I'll follow as soon as I can. I can take the cart from Dawnstar."

He struggled to his feet and limped to Shadowmere. "Thanks, bit. I'll see you at the Sanctuary." Grunting with the painful effort, he mounted and took one last look at her and left.

Nessa sighed as he rode out of view. Getting him to leave had been necessary. She didn't want him coming into the Sanctuary after her, or have to face him afterwards. She'd never been a good liar. Perhaps Cicero would attack her and she'd have to kill him in self-defense after all. Hm, what would Sithis think of that?

"Stupid Tenets," she muttered as she shouldered her pack, but made sure her blades were accessible.

The black door issued a challenge—"What is life's greatest illusion?"—and she responded with the phrase from Cicero's journal: "Innocence, my brother." It rumbled opened, just like the one near Falkreath, but that is where all the similarities ended.

This Sanctuary was enormous and she could well believe it had lain unused for a century. There were crumbling books, thick dust, and an eerie sense of abandonment to the place. The one surprise was that it didn't smell musty. A fresh breeze lifted the hair that had escaped from her braids.

No sooner had she stepped inside and the door had rolled closed behind her, she heard Cicero shouting, but the voice was faint from distance.

"Listener! Is that Mother's cherub? Oh, I knew you'd come. Send the best to defeat the best. Astrid knew her stupid wolf couldn't slay sly Cicero."

"I'm not here to hurt you, Cicero!" she shouted back, hoping he could hear her. "Where are you?"

"Is the Listener being sly with poor Cicero?"

Looking down at her feet she saw the blood trail started right at the door and led down the hall. There was a good deal of blood; Arnbjorn must have injured him badly. She started down the hallway, going as quietly as possible. Cicero's journal had said something about guardians. They hadn't attacked him, the Keeper, why should they attack her? She was the Listener.

It wasn't far before she spotted the first one. The shade paced the floor, a sword strapped to its back.

She quietly unsheathed her daggers and prepared to use them. Her limbs were still cramped and tired from the long, arduous ride, but a surge of adrenaline made her forget about it. She decided to test her theory that they would be harmless to her. She drew herself up, standing with far more confidence and assurance than she actually possessed.

"I'm here, Guardian. I am the Listener selected by the Night Mother herself. I order you to let me pass."

The guardian swung his head in her direction and unsheathed his sword at her words. He appraised her for a long moment then put his sword back and bowed his head to her.

"Listener," he whispered in a sepulchral voice.

She approached the wraith slowly and reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. The contact was icy, but the ghost did have form. "Go to your rest, my brother."

His face, what she could see of it, eased into a smile. "At long last." He dissipated with a soft sigh and there was nothing left of the spirit.

As she followed the blood trail she encountered more of the spirits. After the first one she didn't need to introduce herself, they seemed to recognize her now. She dismissed each one, and they all seemed grateful to have their long watch ended.

"Ugh," she grumbled to herself. "Is this what awaits me when I die? I'm going to be posted to some eternal watch somewhere until someone finds me and kills me again or I'm dismissed?" Life was unfair, no doubt, but it seemed that death was just as unfair.

The first trap was a trip wire, carefully laid and difficult to see in the gloomy Sanctuary. There was a guardian standing near it and she would have blundered into it if he hadn't held out his hand to stop her and pointed at it.

"Thank you," she said. "Go to your rest, my friend."

The spirit smiled and disappeared.

"Oh Listener?"

She heard Cicero's voice, high and querulous.

"Cherub…"

She said nothing but crossed the bridge, noting the spikes that would even now be piercing her if she had set off the trap.

"Mother's darling. Listener. Sweet, sweet cherub. Angel of death. Are you still alive?"

"I'm still here, Cicero. I'm not going to hurt you, all right?" she reassured him.

His voice dropped into barely more than a mutter, but she could still hear him. "The cherub can't lie, can she? She's a terrible liar. Maybe she learned how! Maybe she knows how to trick Cicero. The cherub has learned some lessons, hasn't she?"

Nessa sighed and continued on the path. "I'm not lying, Cicero. Come on. You know me better than that."

She followed the trail of blood into a dining hall, one much bigger than at her Sanctuary and through a broken window that led into an ice cave.

Cicero continued to babble as she entered the ice cave, but she ignored his rantings. There was a terrible smell in the cave. It smelled of death and decay and… _What was it?_ It was a smell she had never smelled before: acrid, foul, excremental, and with a whiff of rancid fat. Creeping quietly now, remembering his journal had mentioned a beast of some sort. Well, the smell was certainly beastly.

She rounded a corner and saw a large… _What in the name of Talos is that?_ It walked on two legs, had fangs, claws, and a third eye. She ducked back around the corner, her heart beating in terror. Had it seen her? _Gods! These things truly exist?_ She had heard stories about trolls, of course, but she'd never encountered one.

When her heart had quieted and she found her nerve, she sheathed her blades. Peeping around the corner, she followed the troll's shuffling gait. As soon as he was out of sight, she dashed across the opening to the passageway and found a rocky outcropping. If she could climb to the top of it, she might be able to get one, maybe two, clear bow shots at the beast before it got to her. With luck, she could disable it and it wouldn't be able to climb up to her position. The thought of having to fight this thing with her blades scared her. She might be fast, but her advantage with a blade was striking suddenly from cover.

She climbed up the rocks, her fingers wedging themselves into cracks for purchase, her boots finding tiny ledges. It was slow going and she almost fell once, but she finally made it to the top. Kneeling on the rocky outcropping, she steadied her aim, waiting until it was a clear shot, and then let loose her arrow. It flew true and hit the beast in the shoulder, sinking deeply into his muscle. Good! One arm might be too damaged to use.

The troll turned, roaring in pain, looking for his attacker. As he was searching her, she was fitting another arrow. This one hit him in the breast just as he spotted her and began to charge toward her rocky perch.

Nessa could swear that her perch shook as he began scrabbling up after her. The wounded shoulder wasn't hampering him nearly as much as she had hoped. For a brief moment she considered throwing down the bow and getting her daggers ready, but she had—maybe—one more shot before he'd reach the top. Then she'd be armed with a bow against an angry troll.

"Sweet gods, don't abandon me now," she prayed as she fitted another arrow. She aimed straight down the side of the outcropping. The troll looked up, his three eyes glaring into hers as he roared. Spittle flew into her face, but she let the arrow fly. It didn't have far to go and it buried itself into the monster's third eye in the middle of its forehead.

The troll lashed out with his clawed hand, racking the top of the outcropping, trying to find purchase for the last of its climb, and then it began to sway, the hand losing purchase. She kicked at it and the beast fell to the cavern floor below her.

She fell to her knees, her shaking hands dropped the bow, and she blinked back tears of relief. Her legs felt like rubber as the tension ran out of her. She realized there was an enormous, glaring lack in her training: hand-to-hand combat. Oh, she had practiced with Veezara, but she hadn't ever actually fought someone, or some_thing_, as she nearly did the troll.

"Gods help me. I will never go into another cave for as long as I live," she swore. She sat, panting on top of the ledge, waiting for her nerves to settle and the strength to return to her legs. When it finally did, she half scrambled, half dropped to the cavern floor, giving the dead troll a wide berth.

"If it's any comfort, I do feel bad about Veezara. He got in my way. But please tell me that hulking sheepdog has bled to death."

Cicero's voice had grown louder as she drew closer, but she could hear the weariness in it. She also couldn't find his blood trail, she had gotten turned around somehow.

"They're both all right, but I'm worried about you," she said loudly.

"Cherub… You wouldn't trick poor Cicero?"

Nessa's own weariness overwhelmed her. She was tired of playing hide-and-seek with him. "The Listener is not tricky, you know that." She slumped against a wall and sighed. "I want to find you and talk to you, heal your wounds. We need to decide what to do! Where are you?"

There wasn't an immediate reply, but then he started to sing. She followed his thin, quavering voice, occasionally broken by a cough. Finally she came to a closed room and cautiously let herself in, hoping he wouldn't spring out at her, but he was curled into a ball on the cold stone floor, near a fire burning in a hearth, still singing faintly.

"When I next meet, that fair maid Nelly, I'll plunge my knife into her belly..." His voice tapered off and he was silent finally, his eyes closing and head nodding. "You caught me."

Kneeling beside him, Nessa looked him over. There was a fair-sized pool of blood under him. "I _found _you." His armor needed to come off for her to get to the wound. She drew her dagger, concentrating on the task at hand.

Cicero found the strength the scramble away. "The Listener _is _tricky! You came to kill sweet Cicero!"

"No!" She dropped the blade and scrambled after him. "I just need to get to your wound. I was going to cut your armor open." She put her hands on his shoulders to reassure him. "I'm still your friend, Cicero. Please let me help you." When he calmed down she began to carefully unbuckle and unlace his armor, pulling it open to view the wound.

"Ow! Ow! Your killing meeee!" he cried out as she peeled the armor away.

She grimaced, but even knowing it was half theatrics she felt bad. "Let's put some healing tonic on it. It will hurt more for a bit, but then feel better. Okay?" Actually, she knew it would hurt a lot more, but there wasn't any use in getting him more worked up. She rummaged through her pack and pulled out another bottle.

"Cicero can take pain. Did I ever tell you about the time I was captured and tortured?"

The blood-curdling shriek rent the air of the abandoned Sanctuary as she poured the tonic into his wound. She cursed herself for not having a sleeping draught with her. She could have knocked him out first. It would have been kinder to him and to her eardrums.

"Cicero is sorry, very sorry. Don't torture poor Cicero!" His voice dropped in tone. "The Listener's healing is going to kill me."

"Oh hush. Arnbjorn hardly flinched when I did this for him."

Cicero's voice dropped to a growl. "You tended to the dog's wounds too?"

"Drink this." She handed him a flask of healing potion. "Yes, I healed him. You wouldn't want to break a Tenet, would you? Mother would be angry." Tired as she was, she carefully placed her hands over his wound and cast her weak healing spell.

"Mother wouldn't mind. That Sanctuary wasn't a proper Sanctuary. He wasn't really a brother." He growled, his voice going low and sly sounding.

"Tch! You don't speak for her. I think she'd mind very much." Nessa's spell petered out as the last of her energy drained away. She put her hand to her forehead, trying to keep from blacking out. She didn't remember ever being this exhausted.

"Is the Listener all right?" he said looking at her with concern.

"I'm just so tired. I chased after you two and didn't sleep much and I'm not very good at magic or fighting trolls and... I'm babbling," she said. The last of her last stamina potion was wearing off. She crawled along the floor, too exhausted to stand, and got herself into the ancient bed in the room.

"Sleep Listener. I'll just be here, on the hard, cold floor if you need anything," he said, his voice dripping with self-pity. "Shivering…"

There might have been more to Cicero's sorrowful soliloquy, but exhaustion had already claimed her.

_~o~o~o~_

Sleep peeled from her slowly, like she was emerging from a dark pool into a murky cave. The images around her were confusing and it took her a few minutes to piece it together.

_Dawnstar Sanctuary._

It was coming back to her now. She tried to roll over but was pinned to the side of the mattress next to the wall. Looking over her shoulder she saw the reason why, Cicero had crawled into bed with her. The fur from her backpack was covering both of them. She didn't mind. He was injured and if she hadn't been so exhausted she would have offered him the bed, but she wasn't thinking straight at the time.

"Cicero?" she said, finally managing to turn over in the narrow bed. "Wake up, Keeper." She prodded him with her finger.

"Hmmm…. Oh! Tee hee, that tickles." He sat up in bed and yawned, stretching languorously. "The Keeper and the Listener sleeping together. That's a well-established tradition. Practically required." He got up, allowing her to get out.

"Not this time, Cicero." She got out of bed and stretched, still fighting the feeling of being drugged from the depth of a long denied sleep. "You know you can't come back to the Falkreath Sanctuary, right?"

His voice went low again. "Cicero attacked the strumpet Astrid and I'd do it again. Anything for Mother!"

"I know, but you can't come back. Let me try to work things out, but you'll have to stay here for now." She had no idea how she could possibly smooth this over. Astrid was expecting her to kill Cicero.

"Who will take care of Mother?" He began to fidget nervously. "Cicero's hasn't left The Night Mother ever…"

Seeing his discomfort she went to him and hugged him. "I promise I will take care of her, okay? You just stay here until I can send word to you." She began to jam her belongings into the backpack. "Stay safe."

She put two bottles of healing potions on the bed. "Use those for the next couple of days. You're going to be fine."

Cicero nodded, not saying anything and being unusually quiet as she got ready to leave.

"Give Mother Cicero's love," he said sadly as she hugged him goodbye.

"I will. Don't worry. She'll be fine."

As she walked out of the Sanctuary she heard a mournful laughter.

"Alone. Cicero is alone again. Not even my Mother to keep me company. Oh guardians, will you keep me company?"

Stabbed by a pang of guilt, Nessa realized that being alone was what drove the jester mad in the first place. She had even dismissed all the guardians. Well, Dawnstar was nearby. Perhaps he would go there and find some companionship. There was nothing more she could do for him right now. She had saved his life. That was no small feat.

_~o~o~o~_

The carriage ride to Falkreath was long and tedious, but it gave Nessa an opportunity to catch up on her sleep. She had the entire back of the carriage to herself and she spread out her fur, sleeping for most of the first day. The second day the sun was out and shining. It wasn't warm, but she stripped off her leather armor and rolled up her leggings and her sleeves and let the sun touch her skin. The driver turned around to steal glances at her every now and then, as if he'd never seen bare calves or arms before.

Nessa began to think about the note from Brynjolf. She'd left it in her room, hidden in the nightstand near her bed, under her stockings. Now she wished she'd brought it to read on the long ride home. What would he say? She replayed various scenarios over and over. None of the scenarios were the one she truly wanted. It would be foolish to hope, foolish to want. If she were wise she should just burn the letter without reading it, but she knew she wouldn't.

Finally, the carriage arrived in Falkreath and she walked to the Sanctuary, rehearsing her lie all the way.

"Yes, of course I killed him. How not? He's mad."

"I've done as you've bidden… bid… bade me. Cicero is dead."

Maybe if she said nothing, just nodded mysteriously, it would be best. She knew she was a terrible liar, her face revealed everything. Then she wouldn't lie; she would simply nod. That wasn't really lying.

The door rolled open and she strode in readying herself to meet Astrid.

_~o~o~o~_

She was in her office working when the door rolled open. She headed upstairs and waited, leaning against a wall, wanting to stop Nessa before she got close to the common room.

"Ah, there you are. I am happy to see you safely returned. Arnbjorn is back as well and quite safe, thanks to you. He told me all you did. I'm grateful."

She closed the distance to the young assassin and put an arm around her shoulder. She could feel the steady beat of the girl's heart, the warmth of her blood under her skin. It still tempted her, even after all this time, but there was an enormous distance between them now that not even blood lust could bridge.

"And Cicero? Did you kill him?"

Just the slightest tensing in Nessa's shoulders, the increase in warmth in her face, the sudden increase in her heart beat, all pointed out the lie even before it could be uttered.

"I did," Nessa said. The words were spoken well, confidently even, no hesitation whatsoever, but her blood betrayed her to the woman who knew it most intimately.

"Hm." Astrid squeezed Nessa's shoulders. "Of course you did, my dear. You've become quite the assassin. I think with Cicero gone, we can finally put aside all the things that have been holding us back."

She let go of Nessa and turned to face her. "I have made plans for your future, my dear. Great things await." She leaned forward, taking Nessa's face between her hands and gazing into her blue eyes. Smiling sweetly, she pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "But you're exhausted. Go rest and we'll discuss them in a few days. I have an urgent matter I need to deal with first."

The girl visibly relaxed with the words and kissed Astrid gently on the cheek. "Thank you, Astrid. I will see you when you return." She turned and walked down the hallway, never aware of the Astrid's features hardening and her expression turning into a scowl.

She lied! Cicero still lived and that finally proved it beyond a shadow of doubt. She was plotting with him to take over. Shy, innocent, naïve… _right_. They'd been played, taken in by a mere girl. Even now Arnbjorn believed her beyond reproach as did most of the guild, but Astrid knew better. She had been betrayed, and there was only one remedy for that.

Great things awaited Nessa, indeed.

_~o~o~o~_

The bottle, empty now, teetered and finally fell over, next to the others. "Stinkin' swill," Commander Maro said, cursing the favored brew of the Nords, cursing the Nords, especially Faida, owner of the Four Shields Tavern in Dragon Bridge, his son's sweetheart. If anyone knew about this conspiracy to frame his son, it would be her. The Nord bitch would talk soon enough. They weren't being gentle with her. If she were involved in the scheme to set up his son, they'd get it out of her soon enough.

He read the letter again, searching for any clue.

_Vunwulf,_

_I agree to your conditions. When the Emperor arrives, I will pass along his schedule, and arrange for all doors to be unlocked, and any posted security to be conveniently absent for a small period of time._

_Nothing will stand between your men and his eminence. He will die by Stormcloak hands, and neither my father nor your great leader Ulfric will even know anything is amiss until it is too late._

_Leave the first payment, in gold, at this dead drop._

_I look forward to continuing our relationship._

_Gaius Maro_

The scrawled signature was his son's, or at least a very good forgery. Not for a minute had Commander Maro believed his son was guilty. Someone had planted the letter on him and murdered him so he couldn't defend himself from the charges.

"S'not possible." He picked up an empty bottle of mead, gazing blankly at it for a moment, and then flung it forcefully into the fireplace where it shattered. Anger turned to grief, thinking of his son found dead in Windhelm. His face creased in anguish and fury, and tears he refused to shed burned behind his eyes.

Dark circles carved gullies under his eyes, but the only sleep he could get was when he drank himself unconscious. Then he'd find himself with his face pressed against the desk and a sour feeling in his stomach. He would wash up, forget to shave, and be barely presentable to his men. They knew he was falling to pieces and did their best to cover for him. The worst part was he knew it too.

For thirty years he'd served the Emperor personally, guaranteeing his safety wherever he traveled. And for seven years his son had been serving with him, only to die now, dishonored, in this gods forsaken land.

Once again he drew his dagger from its sheath and tested the edge against his finger. Not tonight. Not while there was still an active investigation. Faida might talk. They might find this Vunwulf and he could clear his son's good name… and his own.

The shadows gathered thickly about his room as one candle flickered out and then another, but he never noticed. This night, like all the ones since his boy's shameful death, had been spent just like this one: sitting and drinking, finally falling asleep with his head pillowed on his arms on the table, and the fire burning down to embers.

"My boy, would never…" he said aloud, to no one but himself. "S'fucking, impossible."

"You're right, you know."

At first he thought he imagined the voice. Those were the words he most wanted to hear. He wanted to believe his son was innocent of plotting treason, but then his sense kicked in and the sonorous voice made his flesh crawl. He stood abruptly, overturning the table, and spun to confront the voice out of the dark.

"Show yourself!" he ordered, his military discipline overriding the boozy fog.

"Let's just keep this anonymous, shall we?" The voice came from the back of the room that was fully immersed in darkness. "Sit back down, your back to me, and we can have a nice conversation. Hmmm?"

_Gods!_ That woman's voice sent chills up his spine. It was silky smooth, seductive, but laced with menace.

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm going to tell you who murdered your son and how you can make them pay for that."

Standing stock still for a moment, he peered into the shadows thinking he could make out the woman's form, but he wasn't sure. The offer was tempting, very tempting. Right now he would exchange his own life to exonerate and avenge his son.

"How do I know you won't kill me?"

The woman's laughter was as lovely as her speaking voice.

"Oh, you'd already be dead, Commander. I've been watching you drown your sorrows for the last quarter hour and the Dark Brotherhood doesn't usually announce itself before striking."

"Dark Brotherhood!" He spat at the floor, but turned around and sat back down. "Filthy den of murderers. Your lot is finished in the empire."

"Perhaps, but we're doing well enough here. And that's what I want, your assurance that you'll leave us alone. In return we'll give you your son's assassin. Yours to do with as you please."

Maro sat quietly in his chair. The Dark Brotherhood was very nearly extinct in Tamriel. He had been investigating this last cell—or rather he'd hired Gaston Bellefort—to figure out where their last warren was located and how to get in. It was high on his task list to eradicate the last of them before the Emperor arrived. Sadly, there had been no word from Bellefort and he'd been gone for months.

"All right. I agree. How do you intend to give me my son's killer?"

An amused chuckle floated out of the shadows. "The very same assassin will attempt to kill the emperor. I have all the details. Suffice to say, this exchange also buys the emperor's life. Not a bad deal for you, I should think."

Maro grit his teeth, wishing he could eradicate the Brotherhood starting with this woman, but he would stay his hand and hear her out.

"Go on. I'm listening," he said.

As the woman's silken voice unfolded the elaborate plan to trap the assassin, he was creating his own plan to eradicate the den of assassins.

_~o~o~o~_

Maro awoke the next day with a renewed purpose. He went to see the acting-commander, Captain Facian, and filled him in on what he'd learned.

"You can let the Nord bitch, Faida, go. She had nothing to do with it," Maro told his second.

"Too late. She died during questioning a couple days back."

"Hm. Shame." Maro's focus was on something else, the Nord innkeeper's death didn't even register. "We need to find the Dark Brotherhood's den and wipe those bastards out." He paced, his mind grinding out the details of the operation. "First though, catch the bastard that killed my son. I want that fucker taken alive so I can personally torture him and find out who ordered his death." He pounded his closed fist on the table. "Simultaneous to that, we'll root this cancer out of Skryim." He turned to Facian. "I need that intelligence on their sanctuary!"

Facian smiled grimly at his commander, glad to see he was back and as ruthlessly efficient as always.

"Sir. We found this letter when we went through the inn."

Taking the letter, he examined it closely. "Gaston Bellefort's seal," Maro said. "So the woman was hiding this from us?"

"I don't think so, sir. It looks like it might have fallen behind the shelf where she stored mail and was overlooked."

Maro opened the message and read it closely. "Near Falkreath, not far off the road. He drew a map. Good." He scanned it further and found the last piece of information he need. "Silence, my brother."

Captain Facian had never seen his commander look as vicious as he did at that moment.

"And silence they shall have," Maro said, his eyes looking into the not too distant future and preparing to glory in his vengeance.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **I hope this chapter is as enjoyable to read as it was to write. Two betrayals in this chapter: Nessa betraying Astrid and Astrid betraying her. Nessa was in a terrible position.  
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_Thanks so much for the reviews: Inuyashagirl2015, eep246, T.S. Hills, TheOtherLachance, KK Jace, zevgirl, Heiwako, Biff McLaughlin, freshneverfrozen, fluttermoth, Nightlain, Jacob shives - I always love hearing from my readers. Take a minute and let me know you think, if you would be so kind._

_Special thanks to Heiwako (great Skyrim writer), Biff McLaughlin, and Zevgirl for their encouragement, inspiration, and honest feedback. Especially Heiwako for helping me fall in love with Brynjolf again. (Tee hee!)_

_Noctural is subtly exerting her influence and combating the Night Mother's control of the Dragonborn._

_Any one think of "The God Father" in Nessa's and Astrid's last scene. :) It was in my mind when I wrote it._


	30. Chapter 30

Nessa pulled open her sock drawer and ploughed through the collection of socks and stockings until she reached the bottom. Her fingers seized on the precious piece of folded parchment and gently tugged it out. She stared at it once again, still hardly daring to believe what she was holding in her hand. Settling onto her bed she took a long swig of mead and examined the message. The shadow mark seal was still intact.

This was the moment, she supposed, that her naïve fantasies would be dashed. Dread and hope gathered in equal parts. For this one brief instant, she would imagine that he cared for her, that they could somehow gulf the wide divide of distance and fate to be together, that… that he even wanted it.

She laughed at herself and shook her head. "I'm no princess and my life is certainly no fairy tale. Not unless fairies and princesses take up murdering for a hobby." The fantasy burst like a soap bubble and she found her hand was shaking as she picked the message up off the bed. Bringing it to her lips, she kissed it, kissing away her ridiculous infatuation for her former mentor. Then she opened the note and read it.

_My Sweet Lass—_

Nessa drew a deep gasping breath and her mouth dropped open at the salutation. _He's only letting me down gently. _She looked away from the note until her heart stopped galloping.

_I must have trained you too well, Ness. I would like to think I'm too old to fall for the trick of being seduced by a beautiful woman and then robbed, but apparently I'm not. _

Her forehead furrowed as she read his note. Was he accusing her of stealing something? Wracking her memory, she couldn't think of a single thing she had taken of his. She had left behind a substantial pile of septims to cover his cost for her convalescence.

_The bag of septims, while greatly appreciated, does not come close to covering the cost of the item you filched and I am afraid I must ask you for further recompense. You see, Ness, you stole my heart and then broke it. _

_The shadows won't be cover enough for you, lass. I intend to recover the item you stole and I ask to be given the opportunity to even the score and steal yours from you. _

Nessa stared blankly at the message, trying to absorb the meaning. "I stole his heart?" she murmured. Slowly the meaning sunk in and a smile began to form on her face even though she still didn't believe it. The rejection must be yet to come, he was just flattering her.

_You have played me false, sweet Ness. There is only one remedy for a wrong of this magnitude. Name the city and the date. I promise I will be there._

_I am awaiting your reply,_

_Brynjolf_

She reread the message again, more closely. She must have missed something, misinterpreted a word, read something into it that wasn't there. But on the second reading, and the third, the words stayed the same and slowly the realization dawned on her.

_He wants to see me again?_

Like a shaken bottle of mead, something erupted within her, releasing its effervesce into her blood. No, it was something sweeter than mead: bubbling ice wine from grapes kissed by frost. A smile spread over her face and she couldn't stop smiling. She couldn't sit still. She bounced off the bed, still clutching the letter, and headed for the dining hall.

She rounded the corner, not really noticing anything around her, but completely absorbed in her happiness, and ran into Arnbjorn going the opposite direction.

"Oof!" She teetered and nearly fell, only catching herself at the last moment. The letter fluttered out of her hands and settled to the floor landing in front of Arnbjorn.

"Careful, bit!" He helped her right herself and then saw the paper and bent to retrieve it. The shadow mark in the sealing wax caught his eye. Her anxious glance at the note, her cheeks flushing, he pieced it together. "Thief marks." He held out the message out to her. "Your thief?"

Looking up at him, she shook her head. "My thief? I don't know what you mean." She reached for the letter but Arnbjorn pulled it back.

"No? A girl walks down the hall with the silliest grin I've ever seen, her head in the clouds, and rams into me. I'm thinking it might have something to do with this." He waved the message at her. "Can I read it?"

"Read it? Why?"

Turning, he put an arm around her shoulder and began walking with her to the dining hall. "I want to know more about this man who seems to be turning your brain into mush."

She wanted to say "no", but perhaps Arnbjorn's perspective would be valuable. Still, it might be awkward, given that they'd been lovers and their emotional and physical entanglement had been so complex.

"You won't tell anyone? Not even Astrid?" she said quietly.

"Not a soul," he swore.

"And you won't laugh?"

"That I can't guarantee. It depends on what he wrote."

They walked into the empty dining hall together and she filled a bowl with some stew simmering over the fire and sat down with him at a table. "Why do you want to know?"

He handed her the letter. "You're my guild sister. It's my duty to protect you."

Biting her lip to keep from laughing, she said, "If I'm your sister then…" She cocked her head and gave him an impish grin.

"It's a figure of speech, bit."

She handed him the letter. "All right then. Read it. Tell me if a relationship is even possible across such distances between a thief and an assassin."

"It wouldn't be the first time." He took the letter from her and unfolded it, reading slowly. He grunted as he read the salutation. "Seduced by a beautiful woman and robbed." He snorted, shaking his head. "Lays it on a bit thick, don't you think?"

Nessa scowled at him and reached over to pull the letter away. "Maybe he thinks I am!" she said sharply.

He pulled the letter out of her reach. "Of course he does, bit. He'd have to be blind. It's stating the obvious."

She rolled her eyes and gave up trying to snatch the message back.

"Stole his heart… broke it? You paid him? Hmmm… he wants to see you again. How big of a bag of septims did you give him?"

Her spoon clattered to the bowl and this time she snatched the letter out of his hands. "You think I paid him? Arnbjorn! He spent a lot of money trying to help me in Solitude. I left him my expense money to cover his costs." She carefully refolded the letter and put it into a pocket.

"I'm teasing, bit. I don't approve of him, but I doubt I'd approve of anyone you fancied."

Nessa smiled at him grudgingly. "He's a good man, Arn."

"He's a thief, Nessa. He's not a good man."

"And I'm an assassin. I'm not a good woman," she countered. "If anything, he's not as bad as I am. Perhaps he's too good for me."

"Hm, I suppose you have a point. Be careful, bit."

"I will." She got up and returned with a second bowl of stew and ate it with gusto.

"He's done wonders for your appetite, I have to admit," he said.

She smiled at him in between bites. "You always said I was too skinny."

"True. Listen, I hear you're going to Markarth on your next assignment. Why don't you meet him there? It is a romantic city. Waterfalls, ancient Dwemer architecture—lots of rain giving you a good excuse to stay inside all day."

Cocking her head, she examined him closely, her brows furrowing. "Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged. "I want to see you happy, bit. Between Astrid and me… Well, I know we've made you miserable at times. When you have a chance at happiness, grab it. It doesn't come around too often, morsel."

She nearly choked on a mouthful of stew. "You're lecturing me about happiness? That is rich." Laughing, she wiped off her mouth with a napkin. "I get it, though."

Taking a long drink of water she sat carefully and considered her options. The noble thing to do would be to forget about Brynjolf. Her life was too dangerous and complex. There was much she couldn't share with him. Then again, he wasn't asking her to marry him. He just wanted to see her again. What could that hurt?

"I think I will do it," she said, finally deciding. "Markarth, eh? What am I going to do there?"

_~o~o~o~_

It wasn't often that Brynjolf got a letter by courier. When he did it was usually bad news, but this letter felt different from the moment he took it from the boy. There was no distinguishing mark on the seal and he didn't recognize the legible, but plain script on the outside. He gave the boy a few septims and tucked the letter into his pocket.

Delvin was eating dinner when he got to the Flagon. He greeted his friend and seated himself at the table, fishing the note out of his pocket, and finally opening it.

"Who's that from?" Delvin asked.

"Let me read a moment and I'll tell you."

_My dear Brynjolf—_

_It just so happens that I will find myself in Markarth on businesss, Midyear 9__th__. Depending on how things go with my tasks, I may be able to linger a few days to discuss your allegations of theft and vandalism and bring my own countercharges._

Brynjolf broke into a grin as he read the letter. "It's the lass. Didn't know she could be so cheeky."

Groaning, Delvin took another bite of his pot pie. "Didn't know you could be such a fool," he muttered.

_I am ashamed to admit I often think back to our recent time together and find I have to excuse myself. I flee to my room where I bar the door and—shall we say—think, very hard about you and the things that passed between us._

_My guild brother thinks I have lost my mind, but in truth, it was stolen. So, one mind for one heart? I think I have come out on the losing end of this organ thievery, but we can debate that in Markarth, if you can join me there._

_I do hope you can make it. I will be staying at the Silver-Blood Inn._

_Yours,_

_Ness_

"Well?" Delvin asked when Brynjolf finally looked up, his grin having widened.

"It seems we're going to meet in Markarth, Del." He pulled on the end of his mustache, smiling in anticipation. "There's a little house I've rented before. Very picturesque. Ivy growing up the stone walls, planter boxes filled with flowers, and close to a waterfall. I think I'll get there early and rent that place if it is available."

Delvin snorted, but lifted his bottle of mead in a salute to his friend. "Well, you're not the first thief to fall in love with an assassin, lad. I hope you have better luck than I did."

"Who says I'm in love?" Brynjolf frowned at his friend.

"Right, lad. And that blue ribbon around your wrist that you haven't taken off in weeks is for what?"

"Luck."

"Luck?" Delvin echoed in disbelief.

"Yeah. My luck has changed. You've seen how good I've done ever since I saw her. I've been raking it in."

"You just got your confidence back is all. That's what making love to a beautiful girl does to a man." Delvin downed the last of his mead and set the bottle down. "There's nothing wrong with that, Brynjolf. Go to Markarth and find your luck between the legs of a lovely, young thing. Just keep in mind, she won't be leaving the Dark Brotherhood, not if she's the Listener."

Snorting, Brynjolf took a bottle of mead from Vekel and drank deeply. He sighed, wiped his lips, and set the bottle down, half empty. "By the gods, you're a gloomy one, Delvin. Maybe it's high time you found a lovely, young thing yourself?"

"Maybe you're right, Bryn. Send one my way with all that luck you've got now, eh?" He leaned forward and tapped his bottle against his friend's. "For luck."

_~o~o~o~_

After her anger and then cool aloofness, Nessa thought it was very strange how Astrid was fretting over her. The guild leader helped her pack her belongings, fussed over what clothes she should take, double checked her potions, and even braided her hair. It was almost… motherly.

"I realize this job might be difficult for you, Nessa," Astrid said as she wove her flaxen hair into small braids. "You're going to need to be brutal and that isn't in your nature. Of course, if you think of another way of getting the Gourmet's identity and location out of this Breton chef, then feel free to try, but it may boil down to simple threats and a bit of torture. After you find the Gourmet's identity and where he is, track him down, kill him and take his Writ of Passage. That will let us have someone pose as the Gourmet and finally get us access to the Emperor."

She wove the braids together as she talked and fastened them to Nessa's head in a fetching hairstyle. "We've never really instructed you in the art of interrogation, but I'm sure you can figure it out." Pulling Nessa around to face her she looked at her intently. "Are you up to it?"

Truthfully, Nessa was dreading it. The one valuable bit of advice Nazir had given her was never to talk to a victim and now she had to do it to extract information. "Yes." Well, why shouldn't she be able to do it? She'd done everything else they'd asked her to do, this was just a new… depth.

"And then you have to kill him, of course," Astrid said, looking stern but concerned for her young assassin.

"Of course."

Nessa hated it. Killing someone swiftly, preferably while they were asleep, was the best way.

"I think you're all set, my dear." She stood back, hands on Nessa's shoulders and smiled proudly. "You've certain grown a lot since you joined us, Nessa. You're becoming the formidable assassin I always knew you would be." She pulled her close, hugging her. "I'm so proud of you."

There was, in the other woman's embrace, a memory of what once had been. Nessa could never shake that, she was certain, but it also left her confused and eager to escape. Besides, Markarth was a destination she was very eager to get to. She said her goodbyes and ran up the long stairway to the entrance, finding Shadowmere waiting for her outside.

She fastened her packs onto the horse's saddle and then mounted the horse. "We're going to Markarth, Mere. Brynjolf is going to meet me there."

The grumbling sound that came out of Shadowmere was hard to mistake for anything but disapproval, and then the loud snort and violent head shake just confirmed it.

"Don't worry, Shadowmere. We're going to murder someone too, so it isn't all bad, boy." Nessa laughed at herself and urged the horse down the road.

_~o~o~o~_

The market inside the gates of Markarth was bustling with activity. The fair-haired Nord that entered the town with a basket of herbs on her arm was barely noted except by a few citizens with an eye for pretty young women. She picked her way through the market, idling over some of the goods, smiling pleasantly but skillfully avoiding conversation, until she finally went into the Silver-Blood Inn.

When Kleppr, the innkeeper, surprised her by addressing her by name, she nearly dropped the basket.

"Are you Nessa?" he asked.

She looked at the man a moment, hesitating before answering. "I am."

"A red-haired man left a message for you and asked me to be certain you got it." He fished around in the counter until he found the letter. "Here you are, miss."

_What is this? _She instantly painted a gloomy scenario in her mind, that he was sending his regrets that he couldn't meet her. All the way to Markarth she'd been fantasizing about this meeting, half believing something would prevent it, and now _this_. She opened the seal and read, holding her breath.

_Lass,_

_15 Kynesgrove Way_

_Brynjolf_

Her face lit up into a brilliant smile. "Where is Kynesgrove Way?" she asked the innkeeper.

"Up the northern most stairs, left at the top. Ask a guard if you get turned around. They're usually helpful if a girl is pretty."

_What was 15 Kynesgrove Way? _She had never been to Markarth before, but it was beautiful with waterfalls, stone aqueducts, hanging baskets of flowers, and mosses growing everywhere. There were so many pretty sights to take in, she nearly stumbled a few times over raised paving stones, but eventually she found the little street and the house labeled 15.

Holding her breath, she knocked, suddenly realizing she was nervous. There was only a short delay and the door swung open. Brynjolf was standing before her and words like "hello" or even "nice to see you" deserted her. He was wearing finer clothes than she'd ever seen him in, and his shirt wasn't buttoned to the top. A little patch of his auburn chest hair was visible. Her mouth opened and closed, as even the simplest greeting seemed impossible. It was foolish. All the things she thought she would say to him, even rehearsed during the trip, abandoned her.

"Lass," he said, his voice sounding a little hoarse. He grasped her forearm and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her.

"Brynjolf." Her own voice, now that she found it, didn't sound steady either.

For an instant they stared at one another. His expression seemed to hold volumes of unspoken words and feelings. Was that line between his brows recrimination for leaving him? The raking gaze was easier to evaluate.

He reached out a hand to touch her cheek, gently trace it down the outline of her face to her chin. "Gods, I missed you, Ness."

There was a clunk as she dropped her backpack to the floor and flew into his arms. Her lips met his in a fierce, bruising kiss, and he, pushing her back against the door, pinned her body to it with his. Tongues met, twining together. A flurry of hands pawed at buttons, impatience lead to yanking and fumbling. His shirt, half-removed, still clung to one arm. Her dress was yanked down to her waist, his hands cupped her breasts, thumbs rubbing over her nipples, and his leg wedged between hers, rubbing against her.

"Never sneak away in the night again," he growled against her ear, his hands drifting down to her bottom, pressing her firmly against him. His hips swirled against hers, rocking them together. The door at her back, and his body pressed against hers, were the only things holding her upright; her knees wanted to buckle.

"I won't," she murmured against his lips. Her hands finally dislodged his shirt, and then worked their way in between their fused hips to run along his erection, looking for the laces to his pants. His moan at the friction was gratifying, but she never found his laces, instead he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him, her dress still clinging to her hips, and clung to his shoulders.

His eyes only left hers to nip at her lips, her neck, and shoulder. There was something utterly possessive and primal in the way he claimed her and she knew she wanted him in the same way. If this were all she could have of him, the occasional tryst, then it would have to be enough. She would forever remember these desperate kisses, the feel of his soft hair entwined in her fingers, the confines of his strong arms that imprisoned her and yet felt so protective.

He began a half-stumbling walk with her clinging to him like a barnacle, barely able to see where he was going. They collided with the dining room table. It seemed like a suitable horizontal surface to Nessa.

"Here," she said. "Take me on the table." The idea struck her as being so improper it made her flush, but she wanted him and the bedroom seemed very far away.

A warm chuckle rose from him. "You do keep a man off-balance." He sat her down on the tabletop, and his fingers gathered the waist of her dress still caught on her hips. "He sees that sweet, innocent face and he forgets that the girl is a woman grown, with a woman's"—a firm tug removed the dress from her hips— "desires." He trailed off in bemusement. "Lass, did you forget your smalls to today?"

"Would you think me completely shameless if I confessed I left them off for you?" she asked, biting the corner of her lip and smiling shyly.

He hummed in this throat and ran a hand over her belly, toward the apex of her thighs. "Absolutely, and most devastatingly, shameless. For me, you say?"

His finger touched her sex lightly and she inhaled sharply, spreading her knees to give him better access. "Only for you, Brynjolf."

The comment sobered him. His pupils seemed to dilate with that statement and he leaned forward to kiss her again, pushing her backwards to lie on the table. "What can I do to make you scream for me, lass?" Kissing a path down her neck to her nipples, he awaited her answer.

"I want you to… fuck me. Hard. Right here on this table."

His hands only left her to unlace his trousers and release himself from its, now tight, confines. "As my lady commands," he said, his voice growing throaty.

Their coupling was not gentle. It was the product of their prior unfinished business and weeks of anticipation. There was anger too. He was angry that she refused to return to the guild, that she had left him in the night. She was angry that she could not choose her destiny. Both of them were well-marked with bruises and bites when they found resolution of the passion, the anger, and all the repressed emotions they carried with them.

_~o~o~o~_

"Did I hurt you?" he asked. His finger gently traced over an angry red mark on her shoulder as she drowsed against him. They had finally found the bed after their passion was spent on the table, and then again on a desk. Sleep had taken them quickly and hours later Byrnjolf had woken, finding his former protégé wrapped in his arms.

A contented murmur was all he got back until she found her voice again. "No…" her voice trailed off on the lie. "Yes, but in a good way." Twisting around, she turned in the bed to face him. "I know I hurt you." She gingerly touched the half-moon circles that she'd dug into his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I got a bit carried away. I can heal that up."

"No, lass. Every twinge from those scratches reminds me of how I got them. I'd gladly suffer a multitude more like it." He framed her face with his hands and kissed her gently but thoroughly. She returned his kiss, her eyes closing, and sighed softly. There was a soft pliancy to her now, nothing like the fevered passion that had gripped them earlier. It was like an arrow to the heart to know how fleeting these moments were.

"It seems we have a thing or two to discuss. Too much we've kept to ourselves. Let's play our hands face up, Ness. No secrets between us."

A guarded look crossed her face. "I can't tell you Brotherhood secrets, Bryn."

"I know, lass. I won't ask you for them. But will you answer my questions? I will answer yours."

She nodded slowly, a look of fear crossing her face. It wasn't much different from how he felt about his proposal. "All right. You start it off. Ask me a question."

"Did Delvin say anything?" she asked.

"About whether you could leave?" He nodded. "He said it was unlikely."

Closing her eyes a moment, she sighed and opened them again. "I knew that, of course. Foolish to hope—"

He put his finger across her lips to stop her. "Never foolish to hope. It's foolish to give up hope."

Smiling, she puckered her lips against his finger and kissed it. "I suppose you're right. Your turn."

"How long can you stay in Markarth?" he asked.

"I don't know. I have my… task. After that I might have to leave quickly. I should go do it tomorrow evening. I'll come back if I can."

Her expression darkened. She looked decidedly unhappy as she talked about it. He wanted to ask her more, whether it was a dangerous job or not, but he'd promised not to question her about Brotherhood matters. Perhaps he could get her to talk about it later.

"Your turn, Ness."

Her eyes met his and she looked hesitant. "Why did you write to me?"

It was his turn to feel uncomfortable. His natural reaction was to evade, deflect. He had the instincts of a con man. The truth was rarely his friend. "Why did you sneak away in the night?"

"Why did you bother to save me in Solitude?" Her face settled into a frown. Her brows contracted. "You didn't answer my question."

"Why did you let me believe you were dead?" More evasion.

She squirmed in his arms, trying to escape his embrace. "You're not answering questions!" Nessa looked confused and angry. "Why are you making up rules for a game you're unwilling to play?"

"Stop, Ness." He grabbed her arms before she could elude him. "I… All right. This isn't easy for me, okay?"

Her anger changed into curiosity and she stopped struggling. "You said you wanted to play with our cards face up, but I have yet to see a card."

He sat up in bed and leaned against the headboard. "I know. Let me try to explain." Reaching for her, he pulled her against him and rested with his chin on the top of her head. The only way he'd get through this was just to talk and not think about the words too closely.

"I felt responsible for you and when I learned you died, I nearly lost it. I didn't tell you, but I followed you in Solitude because I wanted to beat the crap out of a Dark Brother because they had killed you. Then you disappeared on me again leaving me a note telling me to forget you. I…" He trailed off, swallowing hard.

"Go on," she urged him.

He exhaled with a whoosh and took a deep breath. "It seems, lass, I've become fond of you. The thought of not seeing you again makes me a little crazy. Do you think I'm a complete fool?"

"Gods, no, Brynjolf." She hugged him tightly and met his eyes with hers. They were clear blue pools, soft and warm with understanding. "You know how I feel about you. How I've always felt about you, right? I felt so foolish after Solitude. I know women are always throwing themselves at you."

Putting his finger under her chin, he pulled her eyes back to his when she looked away. "How you always felt about me? I think you might need to explain that a bit more."

She snorted nervously. "You're not serious, are you? I was so taken with you I could barely speak in your presence. You didn't even notice?"

"I thought you were just shy, lass. I had no idea." Truly, he had always thought of her as a shy, slightly awkward, but beautiful girl. He had no idea that he was the source of her discomfiture.

"Well, now you know." She blushed and turned away, a little of her shy awkwardness returning.

He looked at her wondering how he had missed it. What would he have done differently had he known? Granted, he had always found her charming and lovely, but she had seemed so young back then, just a girl. He wasn't a man to lust after young, inexperienced girls. Discovering her as he did in Solitude, matured and more self-confident, had made all the difference.

Chuckling at his own blindness he traced a hand along her hip, enjoy the firm, smooth feeling of her body. "It would seem I'm not as good at reading people as I thought I was."

She settled back against his chest and sighed. "So," she said haltingly. "Where does this leave us now?"

Hand now drawing circles around her belly, running across her hip bones, he mused over his word choice. It was more than a dalliance. You don't run after an assassin, hot-blooded with vengeance, like he had in Solitude, for a mere dalliance. There was more to this, perhaps much more, but he couldn't bring himself to name it.

"Did you mean what you said before?" he asked her. "Only for me?"

She nodded. "There is no one else."

"You're mistaken about one thing, Ness. Women don't throw themselves at me. Well, not all that often." He moved her hair off her shoulder and bent down to kiss it. "And if one should happen to, I'll tell her 'no thanks'. There's a lass I'm meeting up with in a hold soon and I'm all hers."

She turned in his arms so she could kiss him, her eyes smiling as she did. "That lass is very happy to hear it."

"Good! Now, I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Let's go to the Silver-Blood Inn for a nice dinner and a few meads."

After dinner they had a long, leisurely soak in the large stone-carved tub in the little house Brynjolf had rented. Their love-making later that night changed from frantic to sweet. They'd awoken together as the sun hit their window and blinded them with its brilliance. Nessa wanted to awaken like this every morning, feeling Brynjolf's arm draped over her waist, and his sleepy green eyes looking into hers.

The day passed too quickly as he showed her around the hold, taking her to the shops and visiting each of the waterfalls the town is famous for. At her request they did not go to the Understone Keep. Her target was there and it wouldn't do to be recognized.

Finally evening came and they had another dinner at Silver-Blood Inn and a slow, reluctant walk back to their lodgings.

"You'll come back, won't you?" Brynjolf asked her as he unlocked the door.

"I intend to. I don't think there's any danger of being seen. I'll be back as soon as I can," she said. She went into their bedroom and searched through her belongings for a comely dress, ribbons, and a few other fripperies.

"Lass, don't you wear armor for your… job?" he asked.

She smiled grimly. "Not always, no. I need to get information and… well… sometimes asking for it nicely over a bottle of mead is the best way to get it."

"Seduction?" he asked, his brows contracting.

"No. Flirtation." She put the dress on, laced a corset over it pushing up her breasts into small hillocks just barely peeping over the neckline of the dress. She daubed a drop of the perfume Angeline had designed for her behind each ear and wove the ribbons into her braids. Finally, she strapped a wicked looking dagger onto her thigh. Looking up from her preparations, she saw Brynjolf looking at her with a stony expression.

"Bryn," she sighed as she pulled the dress down and stood upright. "Nothing will happen other than me filling a man's ears with lies he desperately wants to believe and getting him a little drunk." She crossed the room to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I'm just worried, lass. Men can be beasts. Your teasing him and leading him on might not work out how you hope."

"I'm an assassin, remember?" She kissed him lightly on the lips and went to finish her preparations, but he pulled her back to him, his arms wrapping around her waist.

"I know. I will worry, though. There's no help for it." He kissed her softly. "Hurry back."

"I will."

Rifling through her pack she tucked a generous packet of sleeping draught into her pocket. There was another packet she hesitated over and then decided to take: a poison that killed more quickly than an excess of sleeping draught. It was an experiment that Babette had wanted to test, distilled from the poison that Nessa had milked from the jaws of Lis, the tame frost spider. It was an agonizing death, Babette had told her. That was quite the opposite of what Nessa was planning for the hapless cook she had to interrogate, but she took it anyway.

One more kiss for luck and she was out the door. A fair Nord girl left the little house on Kynesgrove Way with a basket of potatoes on her arm, a dagger strapped to her leg, and two packets of death—slow and silent, swift and horrid—tucked into her pocket.

_~o~o~o~_

The best laid plans often go awry, but Nessa couldn't really claim to have had much of a plan. Get the man alone and question him about the identity of the Gourmet. She definitely had him alone, but he had a much different agenda than talking. His groping hands had nearly found the dagger she had strapped to her thigh and he hadn't bothered to answer her questions. That was when she resorted to doing something she had never done before. She slipped a little of the packet of poison Babette wanted her to test, the viciously painful one, into his mead.

"Come on now, girl. I don't have all night. Hike up your skirts and I'll show you my fine Breton sausage. Then if you want to chat, we'll have us a nice chat."

"Why don't we have a little more mead first, Anton?" Nessa said, handing him his bottle.

He took an impatient swig and set it down, grasping for Nessa once again. This time she stood up and backed away from him, waiting for the toxin to take effect.

The chef glowered at her. "You're playing a stupid game, girl. Why'd you lure me in here like a common trull and now you're acting an innocent maiden. Ungh!" He doubled over, gripping at his stomach as the poison hit.

Nessa pulled her skirt up and drew her dagger, moving in to hold it against the Breton's neck. "All right, listen closely Anton. That poison you've just swallowed is a vicious toxin distilled from the glands of a frostbite spider. I estimate you have five minutes to live, unless I give you the antidote."

"Please!" The chef staggered, tried to pull himself upright but fell to his knees. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want to know the name of the Gourmet and where he is," she said, making her voice as menacing as possible. "Give me that, and you can live."

He was gripped by more spasms and Nessa feared she had given him too much poison and it would kill him before she could get the information she needed. He writhed on the floor, panting, and whining piteously.

"Now, Anton! Before it is too late."

"All right! The Gourmet is Balagog gro-Nolob, he's an orc! He's staying at the Nightgate Inn. That's all I know! Please, give me the antidote."

For a moment she considered stabbing him to end his pain quickly, but it never hurt to make a death look natural. She pulled out the packet of sleeping draught and held it out to him.

"Here. Swallow it all. You'll feel very sleepy, but the pain will stop soon."

"Thank you. Oh, thank you! I promise I won't tell a soul." His sweaty hand took the packet from her, and poured the powder into his mouth. She gave him her mead so he could wash it down. Meanwhile she took the poisoned mead from him and poured it out the window.

He relaxed almost immediately as the sleeping draught hit. She pulled him to a wall and helped him sit up against it.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Bet-ter," he said, drawing out the word. "So sleepy..." They were his last words. His head tilted to one side and he seemed to be fast asleep.

Nessa looked around the little storage room and cleaned up any traces she was there. Cracking open the door, she looked out to make sure no one would see her and crept out quietly. Leaving was just as easy as coming had been. A pretty Nord girl holding an empty basket left much the way she came in.

Someone would find Anton Virane's body, but probably not until morning. Most likely they would assume he had died of natural causes, perhaps from eating his own food.

_~o~o~o~_

When she returned Nessa seemed distant. She talked and smiled, carefully avoiding any reference to where she'd been or what she had done, but there was something guarded in her eyes. It wasn't until they'd gone to bed and he was holding her in the dark room that a hint of what she'd done leaked out.

"Have you killed anyone?" she asked, turning over in the bed to look at him. Her eyes glittered as the moonlight caught them.

"I have a couple times." He ran his hand along her side soothingly.

"But probably because you had to, right?" There was an unmistakable look of sorrow in her eyes now. "To save your life, or an accident?"

"Hm. Something like that." He kissed her gently between her brows. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"I'm not a good person, Brynjolf." Now her eyes were glittering with unshed tears. "I do it for money." She gasped and then held her breath, tears finally streaking down her face. "I'm even good at it."

"Shush." He held her close and stroked her back. "My soul isn't exactly stainless either. I've been on the wrong side of the law since I was a lad. I did it to survive at first, then it became a profession. If anyone is called to account for your sins it would be me. I'm the one who recruited you and I let the Dark Brotherhood get to you."

Brynjolf knew the abyss that lay at the center of such speculation. You start to tally up the wrongs you've done and you might well jump in. He wasn't just whispering platitudes to Nessa. When he recruited her, he knew she wasn't a thief, but she was hungry and alone. He'd exploited that to get someone he could train, someone who didn't look like a thief—the best sort of thief. The Dark Brotherhood had seen the same thing in her. She'd been used by them all. Her only fault was needing a place to call home, a family, and needing it too badly to turn it away when it was offered.

"You're not responsible for what I've become," she said. "Don't try to make me feel better by taking the blame."

He sighed and stroked her hair, wishing he knew what to say. "Do you suppose Ulfric Stormcloak, or the Emperor, spend much time considering how many good men they've sent to their deaths? Yet they're heroes.

"It's the biggest swindle on Nirn, Ness. No, if you ask me, you and I are small time, compared to the high and mighty lords, robbing the poor to make themselves wealthier, killing anyone in their way, starting wars over which gods they want people to worship, killing anyone who wants to worship some other way. The Dark Brotherhood and the thieves' guild are two institutions that have been used to keep the powerful in check. We might not be what we once were, but we have our roles to play. Sometimes important ones."

The tears stopped, but she still looked doubtful. "I guess I wouldn't mind if I were killing nobles who deserved to die, but I've had to kill innocents. A bride at her wedding… and others. I kill them because they're a step to getting to the real target."

"I know, lass. It happens to me too. I follow Mercer's orders even when I don't like them. It's best not to think too much. A wise man once told me to take pride in a job well done, no matter what it is. Don't think about the details too much. Keep the bigger goal in mind. If that doesn't work…" He smiled in the dark and drew his hand along her thigh. "There are other ways of deflecting the mind from midnight musings on such weighty topics."

Finally she smiled. "I think I'd like to learn those ways."

"Then I'll teach you. I always liked how eager you were to learn, lass."

He used every trick he'd learned over his thirty some years and coaxed her back from the edge of the abyss. By the time they fell asleep, the sun was just coming up, but the expression on her face was serene.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__I didn't get quite as far into the plot as I thought I would. I was enjoying writing about their budding relationship and the difficulties someone like Nessa would have with her profession._

_My thanks to those who review, it means an awful lot to me. Myrielle, Originalworksof, RainaLaRae, xJanelex, Dawalkindud, Heiwako, eep246, Nightlain, Jacob shives, Inuyashagirl2015, TheOtherLachance, Biff McLaughlin, Zevgirl, MasterAssassin2012, you all rock! Thanks for the feedback. _


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes: **Here we are again! I didn't think I'd return to this story, but I got into a discussion with the wonderful author Myrielle and suddenly found myself longing to write more. Thank you everyone for your patience. Fortunately I had a good start on this chapter so it wasn't that hard to pick up where I left off.

Thanks everyone for reading, the faves and follows, and especially the reviews! They mean so much to me.

_Markarth_

Another shirt stuffed into her bag. Her hands were determined, but her eyes were not, as she folded up her blue dress, that one she wore the night she murdered someone. So lovely on her slender, youthful form and it had pleased him to slowly unlace the corset and free her from it. She was leaving. Their time together was too short for new lovers. Who would be there to hold her as she looked into the abyss the next time? Maybe she didn't need him. She'd done all right so far, well, if you don't count nearly dying in Solitude.

"Must you leave so soon?" Brynjolf asked

"Time is short. Or it may be short. I won't know until I complete the next job." Her hands slowed as she folded the next shirt.

His heart fell a little further when she stuffed it into the bag with the rest. "Where is it you're headed? If that's not a secret."

She stopped packing her clothes into her bag and looked at him, her eyes reflecting her melancholy mood. "I suppose it can't hurt to tell you. I'm headed to the Nightgate Inn, in the Pale."

"I know that Inn," he said. "That's a long trip, lass. It is more or less on the way back to Riften for me." His eyebrow lifted as he looked for a sign she would pick up on his hint.

"Oh! Why don't we go together? Maybe after I, uh, complete my job I won't have to rush back to the Sanctuary." She flushed, still unable to name her job by its proper name in front of him, and continued. "I mean, if you wanted…"

He leapt up from the bed and grabbed his own pack. "It can get cold. Traveling together would make sense." An amused smile lit his face as his earlier funk dispersed. "We can keep one another warm."

His enthusiasm was infectious and Nessa's answering grin was wide. "It does seem rather practical. I've never been there, so having you along could save me time. I'm sure I would get lost otherwise."

"True, enough. It is entirely practical." He winked at her and they both laughed, but then he sobered suddenly and his expression changed to one of mock horror. "But please tell me, Ness, you didn't bring that demon horse with you this time. I swear that mount of yours wants to kill me."

"Shadowmere? Nonsense, Brynjolf. He will do as I tell him. I am the Listener after all, and in the hierarchy of the guild, that is a step above the horse. At least I hope so." She laughed and threw a pillow at him.

He ducked the pillow and grinned at her. "Yes, well, if your horse obeys you then I've got nothing to fear, I'm sure." He crossed the room and seized her by the waist, yanking her close. Her delighted eyes met his just before their lips met. "On the road with my Ness, I can't think of a better way to spend a week."

"Won't the Thieves' Guild miss you?"

Brynjolf shrugged. "Delvin is taking over while I'm away. Mercer hasn't been around much. They'll do fine without me for a while longer."

They were quickly finished packed and both of them in good spirits now. Brynjolf let her go out of the door first. He paused, looking back into the home they'd shared for a few days, where they'd both bared their feelings, and silently bid it goodbye. As he pulled the door closed behind him, he had a strong feeling that nothing would ever be this idyllic again.

_~o~o~o~_

Perhaps he'd romanticized the trip a little. It was cold. There were bandits. The horse tried to kill him twice. But at night inside the little tent, his arms wrapped around Nessa, it seemed worth it. Even the demon horse had finally relented and Brynjolf was even at the reins. Bidding his time until the next attack, no doubt, but it was a step.

"Shit!"

The curse coming from Nessa made him twist around in the saddle to look at her. She was gazing into the sky, her brows drawn together with worry.

"What is it, lass?" he asked, then turned back to stare into the distance where she had been looking. A dot in the sky was flying in lazy circles.

"Dragon," she said. "We've got to get off the road. Let's stick to the forest. It might not find us."

"Damn dragons. I liked them better when they were extinct. Now all of a sudden they're popping up everywhere." He reached back with a hand a squeezed her leg reassuringly. "But he's far off. Nowhere close to us. We'll be fine."

"No, we won't be, Bryn. Please, just do it."

The fear in her voice was plain. If it put her at ease, then he'd do it, of course.

As she predicted, the dot grew closer, heading for them as if it were looking for them. He guided the horse to the thickest cover in the forest and they dismounted, hiding themselves beneath a thick canopy. As if sensing their presence, the dragon circled for a long time before it flew off. Even then though, Nessa wouldn't budge from their spot.

"It's still there," she whispered

"I'm pretty certain it's gone, love." Its wings had kicked up leaves and dust. Nothing was moving now. The forest was silent.

"It's there. I feel it."

Her eyes looked haunted as she spoke about dragons. "You've some experience with them, then?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "I was there. In Helgen."

Ah. That would explain a lot then. The entire village was burned to the ground by a vicious dragon attack, the first of its kind. Now it seemed not a week went by but another dragon was reported.

They huddled in the forest for an hour and, as it turned out, Nessa was right. There was another great buffeting by a great wind as the dragon took off. She took a deep, trembling breath and then let it go.

"It's gone. Wait a bit more, but I don't think it'll be back," she said.

"Lass, I've a question."

The forest began to stir. Small creatures, birds, everything else that had been hiding along with them, came out and resumed their activities. Now that he thought of it, the forest had been too quiet.

"What?"

"How did you know what the dragon would do?"

"I'm not sure. I just do."

It sounded like an evasion to him. Some mystery lay there. As much as she seemed sweet and uncomplicated there were layers to her. It made things interesting. He'd get it out of her, no doubt.

He cocked his head and gave her his most charming smile. "Perhaps you're part dragon yourself." He chuckled at the absurdity of the notion, but she went pale and turned to the horse, needlessly trying to cinch his saddle tighter.

"That's ridiculous," she said.

"Lass, sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Let's go. We've already lost an hour."

She mounted the horse and took the reins. Brynjolf mounted behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and wondered why his joke had gone so wide of the mark. Fortunately it wasn't long before she relaxed and learned back against him, letting him know that all was forgiven.

_~o~o~o~_

The inn was a welcome sight at the end of a long day of traveling through wind-whipped sleet.

"Brynjolf? You blighted Daedra. It has been too long!" The innkeeper practically dropped the cup he was polishing and embraced the red-head.

"Hadring, I hoped you were still on this side of the soil." Brynjolf clapped the innkeeper on the back like an old friend.

The innkeeper turned to look at Nessa, who stood apart, letting the friends greet each other. "And who is this? Has someone finally shot an arrow into your knee, old man?"

Brynjolf turned in time to see her turn bright pink. It wasn't a bad cover story, really, and her blush was charming. "Why yes, Hadry. We're just newly hitched. Isn't that right, Ness?"

She nodded and turned even pinker. "Yes. To meet my family. In, uh, Whiterun."

Brynjolf wrapped a protective arm around her and pulled her close, kissing the side of her head. "Did pretty good for myself, didn't I?"

Hadring grinned. "I'll say. Well, seeing as how you're newlyweds, I'll give you the best room and dinner is on me. A wedding present. I'll make sure no one disturbs you either, not that anyone is here except Fultheim, and an orc who's been here a bit. Strange fella, but loaded. He can stay as long as he likes with his wallet open and ready."

Brynjolf stared lovingly at Nessa, playing the newlywed, and saw her eyebrows twitch when the innkeeper mentioned the orc. He knew then that he must be her target.

They bathed in a steaming hot tub big enough for the both of them. A week of freezing, sleety weather seemed to melt out of his bones into the warm water and Nessa's clean wet hair wrapped seductively around her neck and shoulders. There hadn't been much hanky-panky on the road. They'd been too cold, too tired, and too filthy to do more than wrap themselves together at night.

"Newlyweds?" Nessa said, smiling shyly at him. "What inspired that?"

"Perfect cover story for you, lass. No one would ever expect the blushing bride has murdered the orc."

Her expression sobered and she looked at him suspiciously. "How'd you know?"

"Your face, love. Just a little twitch of your left eyebrow."

She bit her lip and furrowed her brow. "Do you think he noticed?"

"Naw. I've spent a lot of years reading faces." He pulled the wash rag out of her hands and grabbed the soap. "Turn around. I'll wash your back."

She shifted around in the tub, trying not to slosh too much water out.

"And your face," he continued, "is a face I truly love reading." He lathered up the wash cloth and began to scrub her back. "At first it threw me. So innocent, wide-eyed, too pretty, too young. Then I discovered all my presumptions were wrong, lass."

She looked over her shoulder and caught his eye with the corner of hers. "Does it disappoint you I'm not those things?"

"Never." He plunged the wash cloth back into the water and then rinsed her back off. "You're far more interesting than just a pretty face. You have layers no one would ever guess you possess. And I keep discovering new things about you."

He handed her the wash cloth. "Get mine?"

They carefully changed positions and she scrubbed his back.

"What things did you discover?" she asked.

"I had no idea about you and your past with dragons. You survived Helgen. Not many people did."

"I survived a lot of things that day." Her voice was small, like the confession came reluctantly. "I was going to be executed along with Ulfric and a handful of his soldiers and a horse thief."

He twisted in the tub to see her face, his own painted with surprise. "See? You just keep surprising me. I heard Ulfric was for the headsman's block, but got away somehow. The man has luck, I'll give him that. Apparently you do too, lass."

"It wasn't luck," she rubbed his back hard, some deep anger coming out now. "It was a horrible mistake. I was swept up in a raid. I had nothing to do with the Stormcloaks. Well, not really. Just was in the company of one, briefly. And for that, I was to be executed."

"Oh?" He caught her hand and swept it to his mouth for a kiss. "Who was this Stormcloak? Was it Ulfric himself?"

"Hardly," she scoffed. "One of his soldiers. Another of my many mistakes."

"We all make them, Ness. Don't be so hard on yourself." He got out of the tub and grabbed a towel. "Come on, now. Let's get a proper hot meal." He dried off quickly then wrapped her in another towel as she got out of the tub.

_~o~o~o~_

They dressed in comfortable clothes and ate their meal next to the hearth in the dining room. The fire seemed to burn away the last of the chill, and the mead warmed their spirits. Things were so… pleasant. It was different from Markarth. The heady passion had mellowed into something else, something nice, safe.

"The dragon thing," Nessa murmured. Her voice dropped low, and then she stopped, afraid to continue on the topic. It was crazy.

"Go on, lass. I'm curious, but I didn't want to pry." He reached across the table and took her hand.

A quaff of mead bolstered her. "Jarl Balgruuf thinks I'm a…" She laughed nervously and looked to make sure the innkeeper wasn't eavesdropping. "A Dragonborn," she whispered.

Brynjolf's eyebrows leapt. "A Dragonborn?" He stared at her, his head cocked to the side.

She grimaced. "I know. It's ridiculous. I told them that, but people saw that dragon's… stuff, his soul I guess, go into me when it died. I felt something too."

He stroked his mustache as he looked at her. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. "You think I'm crazy now. Well, I don't believe them. Akatosh couldn't be that stupid to make _me_ a Dragonborn."

He grinned at her. "I suspect if you were then it isn't a mistake. I wouldn't have expected it either, but you've surprised me more than once. Listen, I don't put much stock in gods, but I expect if you are they'll make it plain someday. Maybe whatever happened to you in Helgen just made you wise in the ways of dragons. I wouldn't worry over it, lass. You've got enough on your plate as it is." He squeezed her hand.

She smiled at him, and her eyes drifted down to her plate. "It looks rather empty at the moment. Do you suppose we could get a boiled crème treat?"

"Let's see what we can get Hadry to give us. I'll bet you your small clothes that he'll give it to us free. Watch me."

Brynjolf called over the innkeeper and they chatted, laughing it up. Sure enough, all the thief had to do was suggest that Nessa wanted a dessert and he offered it up gratis.

As the innkeeper left to get their treat, Brynjolf held out his hand. "Your smalls, my lady."

Nessa blushed. "Here? How am I…"

"Quickly, I'd suggest. He's likely to be back shortly."

Nessa bit her lip and tried to discretely remove her underpants. She shifted and twisted in her chair, watching Brynjolf's growing amusement at her antics. Finally, she scrunched forward and removed them from around her ankles. Looking around quickly to make sure no one saw, she stuffed them into Brynjolf's hand.

"Happy?"

"I'll be happier still once I get the rest of your clothes off," he said with a smirk.

The stab of desire that shot through her made her reevaluate what she'd though earlier. That heady passion was still there. Oh gods she wanted him.

Hadry, as Brynjolf called him, brought their boiled crème treats and they ate them, but Nessa barely tasted it, especially when Brynjolf made a show of licking the crème off his lips in the sexiest way possible.

They hurried through dessert and went back to their room, locking the door.

As she fell asleep, much later, Nessa realized no murdering was going to get done that day. Although—she giggled to herself—Brynjolf had stabbed her over and over again.

_~o~o~o~_

The next day they barely made it out of their room, luxuriating in the warmth, the hot water, the hot food, the mead, and one another's company. Nessa could forget the orc she had to murder for a little bit longer as she popped bits of warm bread into Brynjolf's mouth and then followed it with a buttery kiss.

But as the day wore on, her mood faltered. The task at hand needed to be done before it was too late for whoever was going to try to assassinate the emperor. She gulped the rest of her mead and exhaled deeply.

"What is it, Ness?" Brynjolf looked concerned.

"We've got to leave tomorrow morning. I'll have to do my job tonight." Would they ever see each other again?

"So soon? Can't you delay a little longer?"

She signed and shook her head. "No, this is too important. I can't mess this up, Bryn. It almost seemed like Astrid likes me again. If I return too late… I… So much is riding on this. I can't put it off."

"A matter of life and death, eh?" he said with an ironic smile.

She groaned and shook her head. "You have no idea how important this is."

The war would end and the Dark Brotherhood's name would be on everyone's lips. Ulfric would be king. Not that she really cared one way or the other. He seemed like an asshole, really, but Tullius was even worse.

A shiver traveled down Brynjolf's spine. Perhaps intuition, perhaps a warning planted by a meddlesome Daedra, but he was suddenly afraid for Nessa. "By the gods, lass, who is it?" He grasped her wrists and pulled her closer, their eyes meet and his burned with intensity.

She'd rarely seen him look so concerned. He was always so calm and unflappable. What had gotten into him? "Bryn." She tugged her arms, trying to put a bit of space between them, confused by his behavior. "I can't tell you."

"On my honor, Ness, I promise I won't say a word. Not even if it is the emperor himself."

She stopped trying to pull away and her face paled. "No. You promised you wouldn't ask."

A lucky guess, it must've been, but he was certain now. Her face spoke plainly the words her mouth wouldn't say. He dropped her arms and paced the room in front of her. "They're going after the emperor. Don't bother denying it. Sweet Lady of Shadows, Ness, have they lost their minds? Tell me they won't send you."

"Me? There is a whole guild of assassins far more experienced than I am. They'd never send me to assassinate someone _that _important." She laughed nervously. How could he know? He read all that on her face?

"And yet your guild leader sent you to murder Vittoria Vici in nearly impossible circumstances. That you survived is a miracle. Are you sure your guild leader doesn't want you dead?"

This time Nessa shook her head violently. "No. I rescued her husband. She's quite grateful." Stomping her foot she glared at Brynjolf. "New subject now! I can't be discussing this stuff with you."

He signed and stepped over to her, gathering her in his arms. "I don't want to lose you again, lass. Or even nearly lose you. Call me crazy, but these last days have been some of the best I've had in a long time."

He felt her snuggle into his shoulder, pressing her face into his chest. "Me too. Do you think we can see each other again," she asked shyly.

"A thousand dragons couldn't keep me away. Why don't we meet someone not too far from your secret hideout? I'll go there and wait for you. You report in then come meet me. All right?"

She considered the offer. The Night Mother might give her hell in her dreams, but it seemed a small price to pay for continuing her time with the red-haired thief. Green eyes and a charming smile might be muddling her thoughts, she knew, but she could certainly get away to visit him after she reported in.

"All right," she nodded. "We'll pass through Falkreath on the way. You can wait for me there."

"That's my lass," he said with a smile, his eyes sparkling. "I've been meaning to go there to sell some potions. They've probably forgotten all about my last visit by now. Besides, I feel very lucky."

That night Balagog gro-Nolob died a peaceful death in his sleep and his body was dumped into a wine vat. He wouldn't be found until someone drained the vat. Nessa swore off of drinking any wines originating from the area.

The newlyweds bid goodbye to the innkeeper the next morning and they mounted double on Shadowmere who snorted his disgust.

_~o~o~o~_

There was definitely a bloom on Nessa's cheek and a lightness about her.

"Hmmm… She looks happy, doesn't she?" Astrid commented to Arnbjorn after the Listener returned. "I think she's settling in nicely. Her new occupation agrees with her."

Arnbjorn's reply was little more than a snort. He knew full well what was responsible for her mood, or rather, who was responsible. The girl must've met her thief in Markarth after all. Good for her. Now they could put all this nonsense behind them and start behaving like real assassins. The small stab of jealousy reminded Arnbjorn that he wasn't immune from the nonsense, but despite that, he winked secretively at Nessa when they exchanged glances. Her smile seemed to brim with her secret happiness.

Astrid was happy too and that worried him.

"Sit here, Nessa." Astrid called her over when she walked into the dining hall. "We've missed you around here." She smiled warmly at the girl and looked at her husband. "Haven't we, darling?"

"Mmph," he said around a mouthful of meat he'd just taken in order to avoid conversation.

"Excellent job, my dear! You're really blossoming as an assassin. And, I dare say, you look prettier than ever since you returned. You seem… happy. I'm glad." She reached across the table to pat the girl's hand.

A brass septim would've seemed more real than Astrid's compliments. It was the flash of sharp incisor and the subtle turn of her lip. He knew her too well.

"Thank you, Astrid," the girl replied.

They ate quietly for a few moments with Astrid beaming at her any time their eyes met.

"Do you think, if you don't need me for a few days, I could visit a friend in Falkreath?" Nessa finally asked, a bit of her shyness returning.

"Oh," Astrid said, "a friend? Oh my goodness, my dear. I'm afraid not. You see, I need you to go to Solitude and murder the emperor."

Arnbjorn choked on his rabbit and it took Astrid pounding his back before he could breathe again.

_Dammit Astrid, what are you up to?_


	32. Chapter 32

_**Notes: **__Thanks to Sokat, Zevgirl, Biff McLaughlin, Myrielle, and eep246. I loved your reviews. _

_Myrielle, always love your perspective. Yes, Astrid is a bad-ass! I think she'd leave Brynjolf a pale husk on the floor if they tangled. So sorry you're not feeling well. I hope you're better now._

_~o~o~o~_

As Nessa returned to her room to get ready for her next assignment, Arnbjorn stalked after Astrid. She could hear his footsteps behind her, soft as they always were. Things had improved between them over the last few weeks, to the point that she felt ready to share her bed with him again. It was time to move on. Time to mend their marriage and restore the Sanctuary to where it was before the Night Mother and her Keeper interfered.

No, she thought, it was time to make it even better. With the deal she'd made Commander Maro, exchanging his son's murderer, Nessa, and giving her promise to leave the emperor alone, the Imperials would leave them alone. This would be time of rebuilding and growing; knitting together a team of assassins into the formidable society they'd been centuries past. With agents in every hold, who needed a Listener?

When she reached her office she wheeled to confront her husband, a pleasant smile on her lips. "Oh good, Arn, I was hoping to talk to you in private." Her voice was low and inviting. "It's been too long, husband."

She was surprised by the intensity in his eyes.

"You've lost your mind," he growled, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into her office, then kicked the door shut. "Sending our least experienced assassin to kill the emperor?"

She'd misread him. This was unexpected and very unwanted. Was he challenging her authority?

"Unpaw me, Arn." She laughed lazily, with just a touch of menace. He was her husband but that didn't give him the freedom to question her authority. "Don't get so worked up. Everything is going to work out fine. She's perfect for the job."

His nostril's flared with anger. "Who is going to believe that she is the Gourmet? Send Festus, Gabriella, Nazir or me. Even Veezara would be more believable than her."

"Gabriella gave her a charm to make her look older, sweetheart. Don't you trust me?"

His stare said everything. "Not where she's concerned, no. This thing with the Night Mother, I know you haven't let it go. I don't know what you've planned, but I doubt it involves killing the emperor. You'd never send a new assassin."

Her face grew cold and she narrowed her eyes. "Are you challenging my leadership, husband? Do I need remind you of the vows you spoke when we wed, and the support you pledged when I killed Sigrund and took over?"

She could sense him fighting the wolf. Stepping back, she prepared for the attack she was certain would come. "When haven't I done what needed to be done for the good of the guild, Arn?" She opened her arms in exasperation but showed her fangs.

For a long minute they stood eye-to-eye, each sizing the other up. The moment when it seemed they'd fight to the death, she took a step forward and pushed against his will. It wasn't easy with werewolves; they resisted most forms of vampire magic, and Arnbjorn was no weakling, but she could feel his will weaken. His eyes shifted. She had him.

He turned to leave without another word.

"Wait," she said, her voice still cold even to her own ears.

He turned back to her. "What?"

"I want your pledge again. Now." She stood, hands on hips, her eyes implacable.

"What the Oblivion? I've pledged to you. You've won. Let it go," he growled.

"No. Your pledge now or leave."

He hesitated a moment, weighing his options. She truly didn't know what he would do, walk up the hallway and out the stone door, to disappear from her life forever, or would his native loyalty subdue his pride?

It cost him, she could see that, but he dropped to his knee and recited his pledge to her, and to the Dark Brotherhood, just as he had when she had first taken over as leader. _Loyal as a dog_, she'd once said to Babette, and it was still true.

She listened implacably, as if evaluating the words for truth and judging him on the intensity of his loyalty. As the last words were spoken, she was overcome with emotion. Tears sprung to her eyes. She reached down to him, pulling him up, and embracing him.

"Gods, I love you, my wolf. Let's put this behind us now. Please." She buried her face into his chest and the tears came for a while longer. "You and me, Arnbjorn. We will rebuild the Brotherhood. Trust me, please. I need you to do this." She looked up at him, a few tears still streaking down her face.

"Yes, my love," he said. He was subdued now and she could hear the defeat in his voice.

"Move back into our room, okay?" This was the closest they'd ever come to either violence or splitting up. Would the renewed pledge keep him bound to her after Nessa was dead?

He nodded.

_~o~o~o~_

"I don't know if you can hear me, Night Mother, but I thought I would check to see if you might have some sort of advice for me." Nessa stood alone and shifted awkwardly in front of the Night Mother's sarcophagus, addressing her quietly. "I know I haven't been able to take care of you like Cicero would have. They've sent me out on a lot of assignments and I just haven't been here."

She sighed and shifted uncomfortably, then knelt. Should she open the container? Maybe she should have picked some flowers or brought some candles.

Bowing her head she tried to empty her mind of everything except… What do you concentrate on when addressing the Unholy Matron? Killing things, probably. She reviewed a few of her murders and tried not to feel remorse.

"Hear me, oh mother," she whispered.

Nothing. There wasn't even the hint of a whisper and certainly nothing like the sepulcher voice she'd first heard.

Was this the sort of thing that had driven Cicero mad?

She grimace and stood, dusting off her knees. "Well, that was a waste of time," she muttered. Going back to her room, she put the last change of clothes into her bag and fastened it shut.

Tonight she would leave for Solitude. Should she stop in Falkreath to see Brynjolf, or just leave a note with the innkeeper? He'd been so disappointed when she left before. He deserved better than that. She'd go to him and say "goodbye". Tell him to go back to Riften. Tell him to forget her.

There was a lead brick in her gut that had landed there the moment Astrid told her that she was going to murder the emperor. Nothing about this felt right although Astrid had reassured her that, as the Listener, it was her duty and an honor. It would be simple, right? Just slip this bottle of poison into the emperor's soup and then leave. Astrid had given her directions on her escape in case things went wrong. That was more than she'd gotten for Vittoria Vici's wedding, but she'd had time to make her own plans.

The other assassins seemed a bit envious and she noticed more than a few covert scowls at the news. Everyone, except Babette, seemed to think they'd be a more believable famous chef than Nessa. She didn't disagree.

There was time for a nap. But she'd get started on her journey tonight. Make a quick stop in Falkreath and be in Solitude in time for the scheduled feast in honor of the emperor. Closing her eyes, she seemed to fall into a deep sleep almost immediately.

The sensation of falling ended in near darkness, in a grove, the very same one where she recalled meeting the Night Mother. Well, nearly the same. It seemed darker and safer somehow. The shadows felt oddly warm and comforting. There was the Night Mother sitting on a bench, dressed in a bold gown that plunged in a sharp V down her chest, leaving a good deal of her breasts exposed.

She flushed at the sight, admiring the gown and the woman who wore it. The Night Mother certainly looked good for having been dead for so long. Realizing she had been staring, Nessa looked up from the woman's chest and noticed the dark birds sitting on her shoulders.

Dark birds? She mused. I don't remember birds the last time I was here. And when had the Night Mother had taken up dressing so seductively? Truthfully, she didn't remember what the spirit had worn last time.

"Mother, I am honored," she said and kneeled on the grass near the stone bench. "How may I serve you?"

"Rise, child of shadow. Your wish to serve me is noted, but I need you to leave the Sanctuary of assassins and return to Riften. Accompany Brynjolf…"

A ragged gray form streaked out of the dark and knocked the Night Mother off her bench. "Imposter! Usurper! Sithis take you, you turbid whore. The girl is mine."

The crows rose into the air, cawing loudly as the two forms crashed to the ground. The light was so feeble, Nessa couldn't see the details, but it seemed as if they were rolling around on the ground, throwing punches, ripping at one another, and generally trying to kill each other. Who were they and what, if anything, should she do?

It's just a dream, she reminded herself. One of those weird dreams she'd been having since the Night Mother had spoken to her, and this one was the weirdest yet. She closed her eyes, willing herself to awaken, but she could still hear the curses and shouts of the two battling women.

Finally there was a splash and Nessa opened her eyes to see what had happened. The tattered gray form of a woman was submerged in water, up to her waist, struggling to hold something down in the water. A hand and forearm flailed up from the water and made it obvious she was drowning the other woman.

She tried to move but found her feet seemed to be glued down. She couldn't take a step. It was a relief really. If these Daedra were at war, she didn't wish to be in the middle of it.

At long last, the struggle seemed to end. The woman dragged herself and came back to the stone bench. Nessa found her feet could move again. This woman, not nearly as seductive and elegant as the lady with the crows, did look familiar to her.

"Night Mother?" Nessa said.

"My child. I'm sorry you had to witness that. Nocturnal believes she has laid claim to you and was trying to trick you into leaving my service. Imagine that! She tried to imprison me in my own realm. As if." She leaned over and spat something onto the ground. "You're mine, Nessa. You need to remember that. Whatever Daedra you served before you joined us don't matter. You're an assassin."

Nessa stared blankly at her, considering her words. Had she ever served other Daedra? Definitely not knowingly. It was all very confusing, but it seemed that there was some unseen struggle going on in their world. Did this mean she had some choice in the matter?

"Now awaken, my child, and do our Lord's bidding," the bedraggled Night Mother said, her voice sounding taut with tension as she eyed the pond suspicious. "That murky twat isn't likely to stay away long. You must go now."

She wanted to ask the Night Mother for her blessing, or get advice, for this job. "But Night Mother…," she began to say.

She fell once again, this time into the dim light of her bedroom.

"Damn it all!" She slugged her pillow. The one time she actually wanted to spend some time in the twilight realm, she was thrown out.

Well, there was nothing for it. Surely, if there was a problem, Night Mother would warn her, wouldn't she?

She finished packing and left the Sanctuary on Shadowmere's back.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__I decided to try to post more frequent updates and just make them smaller. I usually have a complete segment that I want to do and it is so large it takes forever. So, this way I get more updates out more quickly. _

_I completely made up the hinted-at story of how Astrid became guild leader. I couldn't find any references to anything, so I took liberties. Anyway, if there is something I missed, forgive me. _

_I do love the favorites, follows, and especially those yummy reviews that inspire me. Thanks for reading!_


	33. Chapter 33

_**Notes: **_Thanks to BlueEyre, Biff McLaughlin, zevgirl, Watson, Sokat and Myrielle for your reviews! It does help keep the muse on track. I'm getting ready for some construction on my house, and I'm finding that writing is actually rather relaxing!

~o~o~o~

It was four, maybe five, hours until dawn when Nessa reached Falkreath. She dismounted Shadowmere in the woods, leaving her odd mount where he wouldn't stir commentary. She left him ready to go, bags still tied to his saddle.

"I won't be long." She turned to leave him, took a step and realized she was caught on something. She turned to look and saw Shadowmere had bitten the fabric of her coat to hold her in place.

"Mere! What is wrong with you, horse?" It was uncanny how much the horse seemed to hate Brynjolf and wanted to keep them apart. It was almost as if he were jealous. "Let go!" Pulling, she managed to free herself from the horse and rounded on him, fury in her eyes.

"I will probably never see him again, okay? Does that make you happy? I'm going to die, or get thrown in prison, or go to the gallows. Let me just say farewell to the one person who seems to care!"

Finally saying the words that had eaten at the edges of her thoughts made tears prickle behind her eyes and sting at her nose. "Dammit!" She sniffed them back and took a deep breath to compose herself.

The horse snorted and turned his back, as if telling her to go, that he didn't care.

"Perfect. You don't care either do you?" She spun on her heel and walked into Falkreath.

The inn was deserted when she walked in. Even the innkeeper was in bed. She knew which room he was in, they'd broken in the bed before she left him here. Slipping quietly in, she made her way to his bed and gazed at him while he slept.

His relaxed face made her catch her breath. He looked younger, almost carefree. The worry lines between his brows were gone. Now she'd wake him up and he would certainly guess where she was going and what she had to do. She'd never tell him, of course, but he could read her like a book. He would know. He would know that she didn't think she would succeed. Maybe he'd try to stop her. They would argue. Their last few moments together would be bitter and regretful.

I'm stupid, she thought. Why did I think telling him in person would be better?

She glanced around the room and saw a desk with parchment, an ink bottle and quill. She went to it and quietly scratched out a note. It was dark and hard to see. Hopefully it would be legible. She'd dashed away every tear that threatened to drop and smudge the ink.

With a final sniff she blew on the paper to dry the ink and folded it neatly, dragging out the moment.

"Don't bother lass, I read it."

She gasped and leapt out of the chair, whirling to face Brynjolf who was leaning over her chair, clearly having just read every word she wrote.

"You shouldn't sneak up on me!" She let the folded paper flutter to the ground. "You read it?" she said contritely.

He stepped closer, hurt painted on his face. "It was all a big mistake. I should go back to Riften and forget you." Tilting her chin up with his finger he refused to let her look away. "Much easier to lie in a letter than in person, isn't it?"

She tried to take a step back but was blocked by the desk. Her eyes suddenly found the floor interesting. "I wasn't lying. We shouldn't see each other anymore."

"Tsk, tsk. You're an awful liar. Now, tell me why you were going to leave me—again, I might add—with just a note. The truth this time."

She tried to sidle away from him, but he had planted himself firmly in front of her, not letting her escape.

Sighing she looked up and met his eyes. It wasn't any use trying to deceive him, he knew her too well. "I'm being sent to Solitude to carry this thing out." Even now she couldn't speak about it directly. "I'm not sure I'll be back." The words nearly stuck in her throat, and burned as she spoke them.

"No you're not." His voice was harsher than she'd heard it in a long time. He grasped her arms and shook her lightly. "That's just insane. You said they wouldn't send you."

"And this is exactly why I wanted to leave you the note," she said, anger beginning to burn away sorrow. "I didn't want to spend our last bit of time together arguing, Brynjolf! We could just say our goodbye now and have some nice memories of our time together for… however long we have in this world."

His mood suddenly shifted and his grip loosened on her arms, eyes softening. "Lass, it doesn't have to be the end. Not of you, not of… this. You come back to Riften and we'll keep you safe. I can't explain it, but I know this is all wrong. I think there are forces stronger than your Night Mother that want you to return."

Her mood softened too. The room darkened further and the shadows felt comforting, welcoming. She had felt this before. It was so familiar. The sense of having seen this, lived this, was strong. Brynjolf's arms wrapping around her…

"Ness," he whispered into her ear.

She expected to see crows.

Crows? She leaned into him and their lips met in a soft kiss.

Crows. Those dark birds she'd seen on the false Night Mother in that last dream. Nocturnal, the patron of thieves. The soft shadows, now she recognized it. It was a dream she'd slipped into many nights when she wasn't dreaming of the Night Mother's tranquil garden.

_Nocturnal believes she has laid claim to you._

Nessa suddenly thrust Brynjolf away and looked at him sadly. "They're using us. All those dreams… and now this. Don't you see? It's Nocturnal. You yourself said it. Even you are being manipulated. There is no _us. _It's them, doing this to us. None of this is real."

Brynjolf looked confused as she pulled away. "Lass? Trust me, everything I've said is real. I care about you… deeply."

Shaking her head, she edged to the door. "I don't know why the Night Mother and Nocturnal are doing this but I'm sick of feeling like a marker in a shell game."

He must think me mad, she thought. Why would I be the center of attention for two powerful denizens of Oblivion?

"Then let's leave here. I'll leave Nocturnal's influence. If you think that is why I care about you, then if I'm no longer a thief, I'm not hers to claim. You leave the Night Mother. We'll see then if they've clouded our minds with their schemes or whether this thing between us is real," he said.

Would it work? If she left, would the Night Mother drive her mad? Would Byrnjolf's affections dwindle without Nocturnal pushing him in her subtle ways? She wasn't sure which would be worse, to wake up one day and find him disinterested, his eyes following other women as they walked by, or to lose her sanity to the vengeful whispers of a voice in her head.

"I…" she whispered. Want to. Need to. I love you, dammit, have ever since you convinced me to plant a ring on Brand-Shei, I've been yours. But you didn't see me as anything other than a thief in training until Night Mother claimed me.

"…can't." She pushed away as he tried to embrace her. "If this is real, not just the meddling of Daedra then maybe time apart will prove that."

"Ness." His arms dropped to his sides and looked at her sadly. "Whatever you think best, lass. Just… be careful, you promise me? I want to have a chance to prove you're wrong."

She nodded. Her hand seemed to rise on its own, fingers skimmed his cheek. "I'll do my best." Staring at his face for a moment, she nearly couldn't move. Finally, with a sigh she turned and left.

By the time she found the grove where she'd left Shadowmere, she was blind with tears. Stumbling, she caught herself by grabbing onto the horse and burying her head into his neck. He nickered softly while she sobbed.

_~o~o~o~_

Meddling gods and Daedra. Really? Brynjolf slammed his hand against the desk wanting to feel the sting, wanting to feel something other than loss and a feeling like the best thing that ever happened to him was gone for good. It worked. His hand throbbed painfully.

She was mystical, maybe even a little touched with her belief in the Night Mother and Nocturnal interfering in her life. He'd heard of such things, and certainly Delvin believed, but Brynjolf had never seen any evidence himself. Yet, he'd seen her strange connection to dragons. There were other explanations. Could have been a lucky guess that the dragon was still there when they'd hidden in the woods.

What had possessed him to say that about forces stronger than the Night Mother? Where had that notion come from? He wasn't wrong about feeling sure that she was on the wrong path. That feeling was strong. Maybe he just hoped to appeal to her mystical nature by saying it.

He sat down at the desk, unfolded the note, and reread the gentle lies she'd written. His hand throbbed painfully, but a discordant thought just couldn't be dislodged.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong! This was wrong and he had to stop it.

There was no way he could get to Solitude in time. Her devil horse was far faster than any horse he might steal in this small hold, and the wagon was far too slow. She'd said that the Sanctuary was nearby. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to wait. If she survived and returned, he could intercept her and try again to convince her.

_~o~o~o~_

Solitude. Aptly named town. Nessa was assaulted by memories as she walked through the gates. There was the inn where she'd stayed with Arnbjorn. Even now, after everything that had happened, a quick flash of desire drilled through her remembering the passion they'd experienced here. A memory of Tullius threatened to surge into her consciousness but she quickly squashed it. Her finger played with the ring, the charm that Gabriella had made her. She looked nothing like the young girl who had inadvertently seduced the general.

Then came memories of Brynjolf and the care he'd taken of her. If it hadn't been for him she'd be dead. Such was her mood that she almost wished he hadn't rescued her. Those thoughts she squashed too. If she failed her head would decorate the end of a spike here in Solitude. It was a step up from Helgen though. She laughed at the morbid thought.

The trip had been faster this time. She managed to avoid bandits that frequented abandoned towers and waylaid strangers along the roads. More influence from the Daedra community? Why were they so concerned over what she did and what organization she worked with? She was nothing. A grownup orphan, a former thief, and now a killer. So what? Lots of people killing other people out there.

Maybe it was how those supernatural creatures passed eternity, meddling in the affairs of common folks. Probably the Night Mother and Nocturnal had a running bet. She resented them both for trying to control her, through fear or through her feelings for Brynjolf. Were her feelings even real? True, she'd been fairly well smitten from the very start, but even back then they may have been meddling.

She went to the inn and asked for a different room, not wanting to be reminded of her time with Arnbjorn. It didn't work; she thought about him as she undressed and bathed. She laid down to sleep, expecting to be swept into the senselessness she'd come to expect, but tonight for the first time since the Night Mother had spoken to her, she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned until just before dawn. Perhaps the Unholy Matron was too busy fighting the Daedra to see to her Listener.

The next day she wandered around Solitude and even poked her head into the old thieves' guild where Brynjolf had nursed her back to health. The place was as filthy as ever, but even so it held such memories. Perhaps not quite so many as the inn outside town where they'd stayed and first kissed.

Sighing, Nessa headed out the secret entrance and went back to the inn where she bathed once more before going to the Castle Dour in her disguise as the Gourmet.

~o~o~o~

The charm Gabriella had given her made her look like a middle-aged woman. The circles under her eyes from not sleeping certainly didn't detract from the effect. She presented her writ of passage to an official at the castle. Wait… he looked familiar. She shrugged. All these Imperials looked similar anyway. Most were dark-haired, not tall like her Nord countrymen.

"Ah, the Gourmet," he said. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize." He directed her to the kitchen and the head chef, Gianna.

As she walked away, she tried to remember where she'd seen this man before. It didn't matter if she had met him or not, she looked nothing like herself now.

She found the cook stirring a pot of potage. "Put the supplies over there!" The cook ordered her.

Nessa stopped and stared at the chef. "What supplies? I'm here to cook for the emperor. I am the Gourmet."

"The Gourmet? Oh finally! I can hardly believe it. Please forgive my rudeness. It's just…" she paused and looked unsure.

"Yes?" Nessa prompted her.

"I just can't believe the Gourmet is a Nord! I mean, your people cook everything in mead and none of your recipes…"

"I was trained in Imperial City, of course," Nessa replied with a haughty sniff.

"Oh, of course!" Gianna's momentary skepticism seemed to give way to fawning devotion. "The emperor has requested your signature dish, the Potage le Magnifique. I've taken the liberty of starting it."

Nessa nodded and glanced into the bubbling cauldron. "It looks… adequate." She reached for a nearby ladle and scooped some up, sniffing it critically, and then tasted it. She stared off into the distance as if critically evaluating its qualities. Finally she frowned and turned to the chef.

"Oh! I know you must have your own special preparation."

Raising an eyebrow Nessa searched for something to say. She suddenly wished she knew a little more about cooking. "The fire is too hot and such a hard boil has… bruised the broth. We shall have to repair it."

"Of course! Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know, but yes. I suppose it really should simmer gently…"

Looking around the kitchen Nessa spied a number of ingredients she recognized. "Elves ears!" She pointed at the dried herb hanging from the ceiling.

"Of course! That's brilliant," Gianna enthused. "Their musky flavor would cover up any… bruising." She grabbed the herb and pounded it in a stone bowl with a stone tool. "There!" Dumping it into the pot she gazed at Nessa looking for approval.

Nessa took another taste and sniffed disdainfully. "It needs…" she looked around the room and pointed to a table with five septims lying out, a package of something, and a bundle of herbs she didn't recognize.

"A septim? Really? Well that's… That's genius! The gold will lend a slight metallic taste to complement the lemon juice." She scooped up a septim and dropped it into the pot and stirred it again. "Anything else?"

"I have white nirn root extract that will finish it perfectly," Nessa said handing the chef her bottle of jarrin root extract. Astrid had assured her it was the most deadly poison in Skyrim and extremely difficult to distill. It had cost a small fortune to acquire.

The cook eagerly took the bottle and poured it into the potage. "Do you want to sample it before we take it up to the emperor?" She held out the ladle.

Nessa haughtily shook her head. "No. It is perfection now."

"Very well! Let's serve it. I'll just carry it up. You must come too. Just stand there and look amazing. I'm sure the emperor and his guests are dying to meet you. I will take care of serving."

The two cooks took the pot of thick soup to the royal dining hall where the emperor was chatting with several nobles around the table.

The emperor introduced Nessa to his guests as the Gourmet and she made a bow to the emperor. "I hope you enjoy the potage, your Imperial Majesty." She'd rehearsed the lines with Gabriella and knew how to address the emperor properly.

"Ah! So delighted you could make it," he replied. Turning to the other guests he said, "I present to you, the Gourmet."

Nessa bent her head respectfully to acknowledge the introduction and then gestured to Gianna to serve.

Setting the tureen on the table, Gianna ladled the first serving into the emperor's bowl.

"Ah! The Potage le Magnifique." He took a deep sniff of the bowls contents and closed his eyes, enjoying the smell of fragrant soup. "My friends, as emperor, I reserve the right of first taste." He raised the spoon to his mouth and took a generous taste. "Oh my, just delicious. It is everything I hoped it would be."

Gianna turned to Nessa, glowing with pride. "Maybe when this is all over you could send one of your cookbooks to me?"

Eyes glued on the emperor, Nessa barely heard her. "Of course," she mumbled.

Almost immediately the emperor began to waver in his chairs, his face looked distinctly gray. "I think something is… wrong." Then he passed out, his face landing in the bowl of potage.

"Someone poisoned the emperor. Get them!" A guest yelled.

"We're being attacked!" Someone else yelled.

The escape door! It was on the other side of the room. In the confusion attending the emperor's death, Nessa hiked up her skirt and grabbed the daggers strapped to her calves. Just as the guards saw her grabbing weapons, they charged for her, but she jumped onto the dining room table and kicked the poisoned soup tureen at one of them. Fearing for his life, he jumped out of the way and lost his balance. He stumbled and collided with one of the panicking guests and they both crashed to the ground.

The other guard got closer and jabbed his sword clumsily at her legs. She jumped backwards; nearly slipping on a cheese platter, but instead stepped on the edge launching a soft, ripe cheese which splattered messily as it hit the guard's face effectively blinding him.

Jumping off the table, she prayed the door was unlocked and it was. "Thank you, Astrid," she said quietly throwing open the door beginning the run across the bridge to safety. It was unguarded, just as Astrid had said. All she had to do was get to the tower, run down two levels then out of the city to freedom.

She had killed the emperor!

The thought nearly staggered her. A strange rush of emotions swept over her: fear, joy, even regret.

The emperor!

It would bring glory to the name of the Dark Brotherhood. Astrid would forgive her of everything. She could just about see Arnbjorn's secret look of approval. Even Nazir would be proud of her.

Halfway across the bridge the enormity of what she'd done hit her. What would happen now that the emperor was dead? Ulfric would certainly be named High King and…

A noise drew her attention and a pair of soldiers stepped onto the bridge.

Astrid had said the bridge would be unguarded! She stopped and took a step backwards as they advanced slowly. A third one emerged from the tower and the noise… it was someone clapping slowly.

The soldiers stopped advancing as someone emerged from the portal above the bridge, torch in hand. The light was enough to illuminate his face. The man at the gate! The one who looked so familiar. So much like… yes, the young Imperial officer she'd killed in Windhelm. Was that his father?

Her head spun. Waves crashed in her ears, she couldn't make sense of what the man was saying. Fear sickened her, nearly making her vomit. It seemed she would be on the executioner's block once again. Better to jump and end it quickly. She edged over to the side, but the guards began to advance once again. She'd never make it over before they caught her.

"… you, an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood, just made an attempt on the emperor's life."

Attempt? He was dead. She saw it.

"…would've succeeded had it been the real man."

Not the emperor? Oh Talos, she'd failed after all! She took another step backwards, but the guards came forward.

"Tsk, tsk. Surprised? So was I when a member of your _family_ came to me with a plan. We worked out a deal, you see, an exchange. I get you, my son's killer, and the Dark Brotherhood gets to continue its existence. But I've changed my mind. I'll kill you and butcher each and everyone one of your miserable little friends. Your Sanctuary will be put to the sword."

It was him. Commander Maro, the head of Imperial security. Someone had made a deal? Who?

"You killed my son, all of you, and now you'll pay the price." Maro spat off the portal. "Kill her and make sure there's nothing left to bury!" He turned sharply on his heel and disappeared as the guards advanced in earnest.

So this would be the end? Here. Alone on a bridge. Better than a headsman's block. A sense of despondency washed over her. She felt her fingers loosen on her daggers. What was the use?

But she couldn't drop them. Instead her fingers tightened on the blades and a strange feeling thrummed through her. It seemed to start in her stomach and radiate out. A wave of ferocity, not just a reluctance to die, but desire to vanquish, to win, no matter the odds, radiated from her center to her limbs.

It turned into a fire that consumed all rational thought. Images of a helpless goat tumbling across the landscape, and that noise that had erupted from her after they killed that dragon. Whiterun. Thane. Dragonstone. Chaotic memories, long suppressed, flashed across her mind while reality trembled on the verge of becoming. From somewhere, well beyond rationality, came the word and power.

"Fus!"

The force erupted with her guttural scream and the guards, surprise on their faces, were swept backwards with an invisible punch of energy. There was no time to puzzle it out. She leapt forward, encountering the first of the fallen guards before he could get to his feet. The quick slash to us neck ensured he wouldn't follow. The second was so disoriented from hitting his head against the brick wall that he was only barely conscious. The third was trying to scuttle away from her, looking like a mud crab as he scrambled backwards, his hands and feet propelling him. His panic was palpable. He was no longer a threat.

The violence unleashed fed the rage and she sprinted down the stairs, stopping only to lash out at another guard who briefly blocked her way. Whether he fell or ran, she didn't even notice and another flight of stairs brought her to the exit of Solitude.

She whistled for Shadowmere and the horse came running, seeming to sense her haste. She leapt on his back and he ran, faster than she knew he could run, into the night.

It was a long way back to the Sanctuary and a long time to puzzle over what had just happened.

_~o~o~o~_

**_Notes:_**_ Support your local fanfiction author's muse by reviewing, or even just saying "Hey, reading it. Hate/Like/Love it!" Otherwise, I just assume all my readers are robots indexing my work. _

_The muse thanks you! _


	34. Chapter 34

_**My thanks to: **__Janele, Michael, zevgirl, Orthrus of Erytheia, Myrielle, Tule91, eep246, natashaheisenburg, GhostAssassin1993, Shroudedpanther, Nightlain, Biff McLauglin, BottledGreenFairy, and Rasgnarok. Your reviews all made me smile and often provoked thought and inspired the muse!_

~o~o~o~

A fast journey on horseback from Falkreath to Solitude might take three days, depending on how many bandits and wolves you ran into. That was figuring in a full night's sleep, stopping for meals, and such. A normal horse could trot and walk, covering thirty to forty miles, without taxing the mount too much. You could push it to double that, but the horse would be quickly spent.

But Shadowmere wasn't exactly a horse, was he? Nessa was amazed by his capacity to gallop endlessly without tiring. Those red glowing eyes and pitch black coat, he was something else entirely. But then again, Nessa wasn't entirely sure she was a person. She wasn't sure any longer what she was.

Her thoughts swung from, "what in Oblivion did I do back there?"to "who is the traitor in the Sanctuary?"

As to the first question, she had an idea. It wasn't the first time she had shouted, but the first time had been so unreal that she had made dozens of excuses. It was a fluke, a mistake of identities. Jarl Balgruuf was deluded. It was a quirk of nature that a strong gust of wind knocked that goat over. That conflagration of wind, ethereal flame and sound that had appeared after that dragon died—it was mere coincidence it coalesced around her.

She had disbelieved everything that had happened that day by disavowing everything and providing the rationalizations that were flimsier than gossamer. But nonetheless, they strengthened in her mind and she had so thoroughly squashed that period of her life, that she had all but eradicated it. The only remnant of that time was a vague discomfort when bards sang that song about the Dragonborn.

"Dragonborn?" She said it tentatively, out-loud. The word was swept away by the wind and drowned out by Shadowmere's thundering hooves.

All right, if so, then why? Nothing came to mind. Her religious upbringing had mostly consisted of tales meant to frighten the orphans into behaving themselves. She knew little to nothing of Dragonborn heroes other than Tiber Septim, Talos, and she was no Talos! Divines, the man was raised to be a warrior, a general. Who was she? An orphan. A nobody who had turned to thieving and murdering to survive, to feel like she belonged somewhere in this world.

Miles more disappeared under Shadowmere's pounding hooves and she was no closer to an answer. But if she were the Dragonborn, could she shout someone to pieces like Ulfric had? That could be a handy thing. What was it she had done up there on that bridge? That word, that threw those men backwards, like they were nothing. What was it?

"Fus?" she said.

Nothing happened.

"Foos. Foosh. Fush. Push?"

Nothing.

There was more to it than speaking. It was a shout, so she needed to shout it, of course, but it might be dangerous to do that on horseback and at this speed. She put it out of her mind. When they stopped, she would try it again.

Next problem.

Who was the traitor in the Sanctuary? She went through the list one by one. Babette, her mischievous little friend? She simply couldn't think of a reason why Babette would betray her. If anything Babette seemed to be entertained by the things that Nessa had done. She did thrive on chaos though. Still, she couldn't believe it. Babette was off the list.

Gabriella? She was rather quiet, kept to herself for the most part, but she had a dry sense of humor. If Gabriella did it, she couldn't even guess as to why.

Festus? He was one of the few who believed they should hold to the old ways. He believed her to be the Listener and he was vocal about his support of her. It seemed unlikely to be him.

Veezara? No. He was always kind to her. A gentle and patient teacher. He seemed like he would die for any of his brothers or sisters.

Arnbjorn. Never. If Arnbjorn wanted her to die, he'd rip her throat out. He wasn't the sort to slink around making deals. And… just no. No matter what had happened, there was still a connection between them.

That left Nazir and Astrid. Nazir had made it clear that he didn't like Cicero and his long-dead corpse of Night Mother. He was happy serving Astrid, and said he'd only answer to her. It could be him. He'd never been exactly friendly to her, but she never seen him be friendly to anyone else either.

All right, so maybe Nazir and possibly Gabriella. It seemed unlikely. That only left…. Shadowmere went quite a long way before Nessa could bring herself to consider it.

Astrid.

That man, Maro, said he made a deal, trading her life for the continued existence of the Brotherhood. Astrid would do anything to save the Dark Brotherhood. But she seemed so pleased with Nessa of late. Still, there was only one person who decided which assassin would go—Astrid.

Of course she'd never send me to kill the real emperor. She would send someone far more experienced, and probably a team of experienced assassins. That would make sense. She must've known from the very start that I would die. _It had to have been her. _The realization made her almost fall off the horse.

"Whoa!" Nessa reined in Shadowmere and dismounted. She'd been riding for hours and her body hurt. She paced restlessly back and forth, talking to the horse.

"It had to have been her!" she shouted. He watched her passively, breathing a little harder than normal from the long, hard ride. "All those nice things she said, lies. She knew she was getting rid of me!"

Suddenly she bit her lip and inhaled loudly, like she'd been punched in the gut. _Betrayed!_ There wasn't any stopping it now. Hot and furious, the tears came, accompanied by anguished sobs. Not even aware of herself, she sank down to the ground and beat her fists against the dirt until they stung. A furious, heart-wrenching wail tore from her throat. "I never meant… any… anything to her!" Her lungs ached, she couldn't breathe but in racking, shuddering gulps. Choked by sobs and bawling like a baby, she never noticed as she sank further, her cheek pressing against the dirt of the road and her tears turning the dust into mud. How long she sobbed there, groveling miserably in the middle of the dirt road, she didn't know.

"What's the use of going back?" She asked the horse. "Why should I even bother?" The tortured crying subsided and turned into shaky breaths until and her tension racked body relaxed. She felt emptied. Her eyes didn't really focus on anything but the compacted earth near her face. Then a black blob floated into her field of vision and Shadowmere nuzzled her, blowing hot grassy breath into her face and gently snorting. His blood red tongue wiped a long, broad swipe up the side of her face.

Turning onto her back she looked up at the horse. As much as is possible for an equine, he seemed concerned. Gently the demonic mount nudged her with a hoof.

"Arnbjorn," she said softly. "Babette, Veezara." They didn't deserve to suffer for Astrid's betrayal. She had to try to get to the Sanctuary before the Imperials did. She put her arms under herself and pushed to a sitting position. The world spun around her. She was drained from the long ride and the explosion of emotion.

"Gabriella… Nazir… Festus." They didn't deserve to die either.

How did the Imperials even know where the Sanctuary was? Then she remembered the fragment of paper she'd found in the pit with the frost spider. She'd warned Astrid about it. If that spy had sent word out, then they'd definitely know where the Sanctuary was and how to get in.

She got to her feet and mounted Shadowmere, her strength beginning to return. She'd go to the Sanctuary. Not for Astrid, but for all the others. Divines help her, that she get there in time.

"G'ya!" she shouted, kicking Shadowmere in the ribs with her heels. It wasn't even necessary. He took off again at full speed.

Over and over she repeated their names, seeing their faces and remembering how each of them had touched her life. Quiet, patient Veezara. Cynical Nazir and funny Gabriella. Impish Babette, crotchety Festus, and… Arnbjorn. Only one name she refused to think of. If she arrived at the Sanctuary in time she would warn them and leave. And if she didn't….

The thought of losing her friends—of losing Arnbjorn— made her lean into Shadowmere's neck and urge him to go faster.

_~o~o~o~_

At least business was good in Falkreath. The few days since Nessa had left him, Brynjolf had fleeced a number of sheep, and none were the wiser—yet. He was pressing his luck though. Any day now someone was going to realize he'd swindled them and run him out of town. But the Jarl actually thought Arkay's Miraculous Taproot Tonic had helped his palsy and, by Stendarr's fragrant ball sack, the man was jittering less. Maybe someone was looking out for him.

What if the lass was right? Maybe Nocturnal was shifting his luck, keeping him from leaving.

And he'd no sooner had that thought than he heard pounding of hooves. The town's people who had gathered around to hear his pitch looked down the road. As the black horse came into sight, pelting far faster than any horse should, they shrieked and scattered. Someone jumped on his table and half his inventory fell to the ground and shattered.

He knew that cursed creature even if he barely had a chance to glimpse its rider before they passed. "Nessa!" he shouted after them. "Wait!"

They were gone in a flash. He ran down the road after them, stopping at the stables to consider his options. Even if he could get away with stealing a horse in broad daylight, under the nose of the stable master, he wouldn't be able to catch that demon horse.

Who knows where the demon horse and his rider went? The best way to follow them was to track them, on foot. It would be slow, but at least he should be able to easily follow the horse's tracks. The horse traveling at that speed had left a decent trail.

He didn't look back once, but left his pricey wares—the ones that hadn't been broken— unattended.

_~o~o~o~_

The common area of the Sanctuary had a decent smithy, and Arnbjorn wasn't unskilled at the forge, having studied some with Eorlund Gray-Mane before he was forced out of the Companions. Forging a new weapon, or maintaining existing ones, centered him, grounded him in the world of humans where weapons were metal, not claws and teeth. He sat at the grinding stone and worked the edge on the axe. This might well be his best weapon yet. The crescent shape of the head was elegant, smooth, and deadly. He had a haft ready to fit it to. Festus had already imbued the axe head with runes of cold. This weapon would have a double bite, first with the blade, then with freezing cold. The handle was carved with designs of his own working: wolves, moons, dying stags, and a beautiful naked woman. "Dibella," he told Astrid. "Azura," was what came to mind when Gabriella had asked. Exactly who the woman was, he never said the same twice. The woman was naked but for a cloak billowing behind her. There was only one person who might recognize the inspiration and it was a tribute to her.

He considered going upstairs to show Astrid his progress on the new weapon. They once shared things like that, but their relationship was considerably less enthusiastic now. Oh, he toed the line, but he held himself back from her. They were, for all intents and purposes together. They appeared as a couple to the rest of the Brotherhood, but even though they shared a bed at night, there was little warmth.

He could imagine showing Nessa his handiwork. She would examine it critically and smile at him, ask him questions. He turned the axe head over in his hands and wished he hadn't thought of her. She was gone. Any day now they'd hear of her attempt to kill the emperor and her failure. Astrid still hadn't admitted it, but he was certain. He hoped she died in battle and not at the headsman's block. He remembered her story about Helgen and how scared she had been.

Turning back to his work, he tried to banish the depression that fell over him, but it wasn't working. It would be better once they heard. Once it was over. Astrid would hold a ceremony in her honor and that would be that. For them, not for him.

He joined the axe head to the haft with a bolt, pounding it into place. It was definitely his finest work. He took an experimental swing, watching it leave a trail of frost glittering in the air. Then he attacked the training dummy. It was beheaded in one well-practiced swing.

A swing to the torso and it lodged there, stuck halfway through the wood. He tugged on it but stopped as he heard a sound as familiar as it was unexpected. The rumbling of the door announced that someone was returning home, but whom? No one was on assignment except Nessa and he doubted she'd ever return, but perhaps she would surprise them all once again. His heart lightened. Perhaps she'd get to see his new axe after all. He gave one last tug and pulled it free.

"Ah, our Listener returns?" Veezara said.

Arnbjorn shrugged but began to make his way up the hallway toward the doorway. His trip was cut short by hearing his wife scream from her office.

"We're under attack!" she shouted.

Then she was with them, moving with vampiric speed that made her nearly a blur. A wound on her shoulder was bleeding copiously. "Block the hallway!" she ordered. "We can hold the Sanctuary. I don't care how many of them there are!"

They began dragging everything they could to the end of the hallway. Tables, chairs, the grinding stone, barrels, and weapons racks were jammed into the end of the hallway and buttressed first with Nazir and Arnbjorn's might, then with heavier objects.

"Who is it?" Arnbjorn asked, grunting as he and Nazir shoved a barrel filled with rocks to help fortify the hastily constructed barricade.

"Imperials," Astrid said. Her face was contorted with rage. "Bloody stinking Imperials!"

"And how do they know about the Sanctuary?" Nazir said. He gave an effort grunt as he unloaded another heavy object to shore up the barricade. "There's only one of us not here."

Astrid said nothing and her stony face revealed nothing.

"She wouldn't," Arnbjorn growled. Nessa was almost certainly dead. He didn't want her to be remembered as a traitor. "Whoever did this is here with us now. If it was even anyone here."

"If we survive this, we will figure it out," Astrid said. "Right now our concern is keeping those Imperials from breaking down the barricade."

As if in answer, the barricade trembled as force was applied from the other side. The hallway was narrow, so it was unlikely they could have enough men abreast to break it down. A battering ram maybe, but the narrowness of the hallway precluded that.

She strode to the far end of the common area where Festus was leaning on his staff. "Festus, can you turn that barricade into the biggest block of ice south of Sea of Ghosts? We might be able to hold them off longer."

"Gabriella and Babette, get as many doses of poison and healing tonics as you can. And for pities sake, don't mix them up!"

For a brief moment Arnbjorn remembered one of the things that he had loved about Astrid, her cool confidence and easy authority.

"One iceberg coming up," Festus said, cackling.

Magic swirled around the elderly mage, enough magic to make the hair on Arnbjorn's arms stand up. There was an immense cracking sound as water, then ice, formed around the barricade. It was a nearly solid block of stuff frozen together.

It would solve the issue of keeping the Imperials out, but there was another problem, they were also sealed inside the Sanctuary. Any alternate exists the place might have had were either so well hidden and forgotten, or long buried under collapsed tunnels. That fact wasn't lost on his wife.

She pulled him aside and spoke quietly so the others wouldn't hear. "I think there's no way out, my wolf. Are we only postponing the inevitable?" Her eyes showed the worry and concern she'd never let the others see.

"What? You're saying we should just give up? Surrender maybe?" he growled, but softly. "They'll just kill us another way. You'd like that better?"

She shook her head and smiled grimly. "No. I'd rather die fighting. Or not at all really." She lifted her hand and caressed his cheek.

Grasping her hand, he kissed the palm. Suddenly he regretted how at odds they'd been the last few weeks and he betted she did too. There was nothing like impending death to focus the mind of their real priorities.

"What if…" she mused. "What if there is a way out and we don't know it? Could you sniff it out? Maybe as a wolf?"

He nodded. "I can try." He transformed and loped off down a hallway, starting in the kitchen, and carefully sniffed the air currents. Of course there was the chimney for the fireplace, but it was too narrow for any of them to escape through. Maybe Babette could, but he doubted it.

He moved every barrel, every rug, each stick of furniture, looking for a secret way out of the place, but everything seemed like it was carved out of solid stone. There were still a lot of rooms to search and he wasn't going to give up easily.

_~o~o~o~_

Arnbjorn had gone. Gabrielle and Babette were in the alchemy lab preparing potions and poisons. Festus was sitting down, looking depleted from the enormous spell he had cast. In a fight, he probably wouldn't have much left to give. Nazir was sharpening his weapon and Veezara was crouching near the barricade, meditating. He looked insensible to everything going on around them, but Astrid knew he was readying himself for a battle.

That there would likely be no battle, she didn't have the heart to tell the Argonian. They'd die here, starving like cornered rats, and all because of what she'd done. If she could—if by her own death she could change this—she would cut her own throat right here. Arnbjorn _had _to find a way out. Why, by Sithis, hadn't see ever seen to constructing a bolt hole? They'd been to hard-pressed to survive. There hadn't been enough jobs, enough money and when there had been, she didn't want to deny her assassins their well-deserved rewards.

Well, there was no sense in marinating in mistakes made. Right now she had a job…

Her thoughts were interrupted with a sound that sounded like the rumbling of thunder, or an earthquake. Even Veezara was jolted out of his altered state of consciousness. He looked up at her and hissed, "Sister?"

That was all he had time to say as something crashed into the barricade and the iced structure shook with an explosion. As soon as the first explosion subsided it was followed by a second thundering.

"Move it!" Astrid screamed. "The barrier isn't going to hold."

Everyone backed up, edging further into the great hall. The thunder ended with another explosion.

"They're rolling barrels of oil into the barricade," Nazir said. "I suspect it's burning."

Astrid was surprised to hear him sounding as nonplussed as ever.

Nazir sniffed the air. "Yes, rancid olive oil. Well, at least they've found a good use it when it goes bad. I suspect we'll have to fight soon."

The look Astrid shot him was one of disbelief, but the Redguard assassin just shrugged and one corner of his mouth quirked up into a half smile. "Aw, come on. It's a glorious way to go, you have to admit."

Astrid drew her blades and frowned at him. "I can think of better ways."

Drawing his sword, Veezara gave the Redguard a grim smile. "We will meet in the Void, brother. To a glorious death!"

Festus, ever the most practical and plain spoken member of the brotherhood had a different opinion. "Burning to death might be fine for others, but judging from the screams of my victims, it isn't pleasant."

"I hope you've got some mana potions, Festus," Astrid said. "You're going to need them."

"I've got some, but who are we kidding? None of us is going to survive this."

His fatalism stung Astrid. He was right, of course, but she would not give up and she wouldn't allow him to give up. She strode over to the old man, nearly standing on his toes, and slapped him viciously. "Listen you old draugr, you might be ready to die, but none of the rest of us are. If you're giving up, then perhaps I should send you to Sithis right now."

She drew her dagger and held it against his neck. "Say the word and I'll send you to our lord," she hissed.

Festus laughed. "Oh, I'll fight to the end, but not for you or anyone else. I just want to take as many of them with me as I can."

The intensity dimmed in Astrid's eyes. She nodded curtly and withdrew the dagger. "Good man."

The barricade was rocked again by another explosion and it was clear the ice was melting. A trickle of water was becoming a stream.

"Festus, get Gabrielle and Babette. We don't have much more time."

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Sorry about the cliff-hanger, but I realized this chapter is going to be really long and I didn't want to go too long without posting something. _

_While writing this chapter I wondered why they didn't escape through whatever means the Dragonborn escapes in the game, so hopefully my explanation is plausible._

_Thanks so much to everyone that reviewed last chapter, it really made me remember why I spend time writing this stuff. I love the comments and feedback. _


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